Compromising Positions
by SimplySupreme
Summary: Sometimes, good and evil don't matter. Innocence is based on perspective, and when a mysterious discovery kills four soldiers while not only sparing John and Elizabeth, but giving them a great gift, things get complicated. Very complicated. Because not knowing what to think or feel is always scary. A moody fic, but I'm a sucker for happy endings. A little Sparky! Elizabeth-centric
1. Protector

_Hey all! Summer homework is running about, and I again find myself in need of a way to procrastinate. And, of course, ever since I started watching Atlantis, this plot has been running around in my head._

_Yes, I know it starts out somewhat depressing. I'm sorry. It gets better. Life has to suck first though._

_Anywho, enjoy!_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 1  
Protector

* * *

Elizabeth could barely breathe. It had started out as a mere tickle, but within minutes, she had realized that her body didn't tickle: it was burning with a deep-seated ache that seemed to envelop every part of her, ripping her rather violently from blissful unconsciousness.

"Her heart rate is spiking, I need Nurse Ling over here _now_!"

It was Carson. Even if she couldn't see him, Elizabeth would know that voice anywhere.

God, it _hurt_.

But Elizabeth didn't understand. Carson shouldn't be anywhere near here. He was on Atlantis, while she, Colonel Sheppard's team, a small group of military personnel, and a few scientists translated the writings in some abandoned temple ruins on the planet M51-237. It didn't make any sense.

Doing her best to ignore the heat racing along what felt like every nerve ending she had in her body, Elizabeth concentrated. Vaguely, she began to recall what she had last experienced.  
_Dusty rooms, a flash of light. Terror, blood, screaming and running… running… irrelevant pain. Being trapped as the light came closer. Her own voice whispering that she was afraid, and a sad voice answering back. Clinging to John and crying as she waited to die… _John!

With a start, Elizabeth screamed into the waking world, arching her back against the mattress as if a giant, invisible hand was tearing her heart right out of her chest.

"Dr. Weir, you need to relax. You're back in Atlantis, in the infirmary." Cool hands brushed her skin as the nurse tried to calm her. "Dr. Weir, you are going to hurt yourself!"

"Dead! They're all dead! It was coming and I could do nothing but watch them die!" Elizabeth choked out through accelerated breathing and short wails of pain, not really knowing where the words came from but knowing them to be true. Her eyes were open, but she couldn't really see much but shapes and dull colors. Blackness was swirling across her vision as she struggled to remain conscious, her hearing punctuated with her own gasps and whimpers.

Numbness was slowly creeping up her arm. "There you are lass," Carson's voice emanated from the side, gentle and concerned. "I can only hope that takes the pain away."

Elizabeth didn't really care, or listen. "John!" she cried out to the Scottish doctor. "Where's John? I need—" She was cut short here as a particularly aggressive wave of agony washed over her, causing her to convulse briefly and arch her back again. "to know if he is alive!"

"Certainly Elizabeth. He wanted to know the same of you not an hour ago," Carson replied quickly. "See here, he's not five feet away from you, lass."

Allowing her head to fall to the right, the woman could indeed identify the messy shock of dark hair standing out against the white sheets of the infirmary pillows. Relief flooded her, even as she fought against the darkness that was seeping across more of her vision. "We're alive," she forced out, her voice tight. "I thought we were dead…"

With that, Elizabeth fell limp.

* * *

**28 hours earlier…**

* * *

"Thank you so much for coming Dr. Weir, you've really helped us quite a bit with these translations," Anna told her, beaming. Leaning in a little closer, the mousey anthropologist added in a lower voice, "and McKay is _so _much more tolerable when he knows he has to behave!"

"I _heard_ that!" the indignant scientist snapped from his crouch by the foot of the pedestal at the end of the room.

Elizabeth grinned.

Teyla chose that moment to intervene. Smiling gently in her 'you had better listen to me Rodney, or you will be trying to pull your head out of your ass for the next two weeks' kind of way (how she managed to convey such a threat through such a pleasant expression, Elizabeth had never been able to fathom), Teyla suggested firmly, "It is already well passed midday. Let us go and have lunch with the marines outside.

She only had to finish the word 'lunch' and Rodney was sprinting for the exit of the ruins. Not ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, Anna and the other non-military personnel were soon to follow. Even Ronon shrugged and followed, jogging lightly for a few steps so he could catch up to Teyla. This left only Elizabeth, Sheppard, Captain Evan Montega, and Lts. Miller, Sean, and Beyermaltsze (Beyermaltze being affectionately known as Bob, seeing as no one could actually pronounce his name in a time-efficient manner) in the central room of the temple ruins.

The temple on M51-237 wasn't a particularly subtle affair. It was large and made out of several different types of stone, and would have once been a magnificent piece of architecture. However, centuries had passed since that time. The human population on the planet had been completely wiped out, presumably by the Wraith. They had been considerably more advanced than most of the societies the Atlantis expedition usually encountered in the Pegasus Galaxy, which was probably the reason that the Wraith had no longer tolerated them. It was also the reason Elizabeth was here now, helping to uncover the secrets of the temple and hoping to find something they could use to fight the Wraith. What they had found written on the walls and in logbooks so far didn't seem to be particularly promising, but Elizabeth hadn't honestly expected it to be. She was, however, more than glad to have an excuse to take a much-needed field trip away from her office.

"So, do you think that this god of living souls these walls are rambling about hates me? Because it is seriously hot in here."

An exasperated smile split Elizabeth's face. "John!" she scolded, turning to him as he shrugged off his heavy gear and dropped it to the floor, wiping his brow dramatically. "The temple is dedicated to a god of living souls, yes, but it's a god of _living souls_. That means capriciously rewarding or punishing people while they're alive, not weather control!"

"Right. I knew that," the man insisted, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Doctor," he said, heading for the door. "I'll race you to the entrance _foyer_, as McKay so righteously insists that the room is called."

Elizabeth was tempted to call him out on his unprofessional attitude, but John's good mood was infectious, and lunch was calling for her too strongly for Elizabeth to do anything but shoot her 2IC a look and hurry to catch up to him, feet scuffling on the dusty stone floor. But just as the pair was passing into the twisting hallway that led to the other rooms in the temple as well as the entrance, Lt. Sean let out a shout.

Suddenly all business, John whipped around, tense, firmly placing Elizabeth behind him as he glared at the poor man.

"Lt…" he said dangerously. "I thought I told you not to _touch_ anything."

The Lt. guiltily took his hand off of the circle in the center of a medallion carved into the back wall, but continued to stare at the pulsating ball of light that had suddenly appeared atop the pedestal Rodney had been studying.

Elizabeth, irritated that Sheppard had been blocking with his body her every attempt to come out from behind him, finally just stood on her tiptoes and peeked over his shoulder at the light. It was approximately the size of a bowling ball and glowed with a gentle lavender hue, hovering sedately perhaps two inches from the surface of the top of its pedestal and effervescing peaceful little blue bubbles. A humming noise filled the room, growing a little louder every moment. It was rather pretty, but something about it twisted inside of Elizabeth's gut, causing her to grip Colonel Sheppard's arm rather tightly. "John, I don't think that—"

Elizabeth never had time to finish her warning. The orb abruptly exploded.

Blue and violet flames licked at the four men closer to it, but John and Elizabeth were lucky enough to escape their range. They did not, however, escape the concussive blasting effect and wave of heat, and John, still protectively standing in front of Elizabeth, was thrown backwards into the hall like a rag doll. They impacted roughly onto one of the walls, and Elizabeth felt the breath knocked out of her as she cushioned the fall for the both of them, crushed between her military commander and the course stone of the wall.

"Elizabeth! Are you all right?" John wheezed, rolling off of her quickly as soon as they hit the floor and pulling her upright, blinking furiously. "Are they alive? The Captain and his boys?" He paused looking apologetic. "The light from the explosion, I can't see very far," he admitted, still blinking.

Dazed, Elizabeth let her hand wander to the back of her head and it pulled away bloody.

"Elizabeth, are you all right?"

Focusing, she gazed silently over his shoulder, eyes sliding despairingly over the charred remains of Montega, Miller, Sean, and Beyermaltsze. Well, what she assumed were Montega, Miller, Sean, and Beyermaltze. "There aren't even pieces big enough to take home," Elizabeth murmured in shock.

"Elizabeth." John's tone was gentler now. She looked into his heat-blistered face immediately, knowing he needed her to listen to him. "Can you run?"

"Yes."

Almost before she could process what was happening, Elizabeth was on her feet and stumbling after the Colonel as he dragged her along, skidding frantically through the temple towards the exit. He kept a running dialogue of swearing going, cursing himself for taking off his gear and cursing just about everything else for good measure. As they moved, Elizabeth noted with horror that a soft purple light was slowly illuminating the walls ahead of them.

The glowing orb was chasing them.

Still going at full tilt, John and Elizabeth burst into the tiny room that McKay insisted was an entrance foyer. Freedom was literally three feet ahead of them when the doors to the temple slammed shut in their faces. Frantically, they tried to open them again, but they wouldn't budge a millimeter, no matter what they tried.

A second pair of doors slammed close by, and the pair realized with growing dismay that they were trapped. The doors separating the little foyer from the rest of the temple had sealed shut, effectively killing any chance of escape they'd ever had. It was just them and the glowing orb, locked in an eight by eight stone tomb.

Queasy, Elizabeth sank to the floor, and John swiftly shoved her into a corner and did his best to shield her body with his own as the orb once again began to hum and pulsate, floating high out of reach in the opposite corner. It didn't matter what he did though. Elizabeth knew that they would both die in the second explosion anyways.

"John," she whispered to the body covering hers, green eyes sad. "I… I'm scared." It didn't hurt to admit it. They were about to die for goodness' sake!

He answered her immediately. "Don't worry," he murmured to her in a pained tone, "I'm here to protect you."

Hearing John say that… that was something that Elizabeth just couldn't bear. She reached out and hugged him to her, and he clung to her as tightly as he could in response. Elizabeth didn't even care at this point that she was crying. The humming grew even louder, and the room was illuminated with a blinding flash of light. Searing pain consumed her, and Elizabeth Weir knew no more.

* * *

_If you didn't pick up on this, they are alive. (Ya know, hence the whole "28 hours earlier" thing.)_

_Reviews are SO welcome you don't even KNOW. Seriously. I will write ten billion times faster if you review. It makes me feel less guilty about using plot bunnies to procrastinate on my homework._


	2. Tactless

_Chapter 2 up! A little longer, a little filler-ish, but necessary. More mysteries abound! Enjoy._

* * *

__Compromising Positions: Chapter 2  
Tactless

* * *

_Beep... Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Elizabeth knew that sound too well. It was a heart monitor. She didn't care to count how many hours she had spent in Atlantis' infirmary next to an injured or dying friend, morosely listening to the steady electronic blip and hoping against hope that it would never stop.

Slowly, she blinked her way into consciousness. The lights in the infirmary were dimmed, so Elizabeth assumed that it was sometime during the night in Atlantis. It was quiet, aside from the humming and beeping of the machinery she was hooked up to and the hushed mutterings of a couple of night shift nurses that Elizabeth could not see. As opposed to the last time that she woke up, Elizabeth was not in any pain. She didn't think that she was hopped up on painkillers either. Aside from being unusually tired, she did, in fact, feel wonderful. Even the dull ache in her lower back that she experienced after a long day of work had vanished, as if it was never there.

To say the least, this was confusing. She didn't know how long it had been since she fell unconscious for the second time, but surely agony of that magnitude did not just go away. And more importantly, why was she not dead?

A muffled sound at her side drew her attention, and Elizabeth blinked with a mixture of surprise and gratitude at the sight that greeted her. Curled up in an uncomfortable-looking chair at her bedside, face planted firmly into the edge of the mattress and murmuring gently in his sleep was John Sheppard. Elizabeth would know that unruly hair anywhere, even if his face happened to be buried into the side of her mattress, because every day, it always stuck out awkwardly. She had commented on this once, and John had turned a little red, immediately running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it and admitted that no matter what he did, it always sprang free.

Chuckling a little at the memory of having laughed at him mercilessly after offering him use of her flat iron, Elizabeth moved to smooth the offending appendage herself when she heard Carson say quietly from behind her, "Don't wake him, Elizabeth. He needs his rest."

Caught red-handed, she hastily pulled her hand away, wondering what had possessed her. "Sorry Carson," she muttered, watching as the doctor came closer and took a brief look at some of the readings of the machines and jotted a few notes on the clipboard at the end of her cot. He was looking at her strangely when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Aye, well it really isn't your fault, is it now? Oh, wait. I forgot. It is," Carson teased her, while Elizabeth just stared back at him. Seeing that she didn't understand, he elaborated, "The Colonel here woke up approximately eighteen ours ago. First words out of the wee lad's mouth were asking about you, mind. Oh, he woke op panicking, he did." The doctor tutted softly, pulling out his penlight and flashing it in and out of Elizabeth's eyes, making a few noises of approval before continuing, "It'd been six days since they brought you two in, see, and I hadn't a clue what was wrong with you at the start. Of course, he wakes up as a bloody medical miracle and immediately starts off on being chased by a ball of light. I thought he'd finally gone mad! It wasn't until he made damn well sure you hadn't a scratch on you before he started making any bloody sense. After that, of course, he absolutely refused to do much of anything until you woke up, and that includes sleeping."

Eyes prickling, Elizabeth looked down at John, still deeply asleep, and tried to pull herself together. He was so loyal to her. But she didn't deserve it. Although all things considered, if the roles had been reversed, she'd have woken up hysterical too.

Carson firmly gripped her shoulder after she didn't respond to his dialogue and shook it gently. "Hey there lass, you all right now?" he asked, concerned.

Elizabeth drew in a breath and looked at him. "He wouldn't have told you, Dr. Beckett," she said, forcing a perfectly schooled blank facade onto her features that betrayed nothing of her emotions. "but the last thing either of us remembers is huddling together in a corner, knowing full well that we were seconds away from dying. I hope you'll forgive him his behavior, and me mine." She frowned slightly and put a hand to her throat. Her voice sounded different.

"We figured as much," was the only response she received from Dr. Beckett. An expression of sadness briefly crossed his features before he stood and gently pushed her back into her pillows. "Sleep, Elizabeth. We'll talk about what's happened to you in the morning." With that, he strode away.

A light sigh passed through Elizabeth's lips, still confused as to what had happened and why she was alive. Despite this, she was tired, so she carefully rolled onto her side in an attempt to get more comfortable without disturbing John. She lay there quietly for a moment. Then, tentatively, she reached out her hand until it brushed his, practically melting in relief. She could touch him: it was real. Now she could sleep.

* * *

When she awakened, the first thing Elizabeth could see was Teyla, standing at her side and staring at her with the utmost fascination. Teyla, seeing that she was awake, broke out into a bright smile. "It is good to see you looking so well, Dr. Weir," the Athosian said happily, stooping low over the cot so she could touch her forehead to Elizabeth's.

"You as well, Teyla," Elizabeth returned quietly, aware that John was still asleep and hadn't moved an inch. "What time is it?" She frowned, again struck by how odd her own voice sounded to her. It was softer than she was accustomed to.

Tearing her eyes away from Elizabeth and glancing down at her watch, Teyla frowned at it for a moment before replying curtly, "It is currently ten minutes after 0600." In answer to the unanswered question on Elizabeth's face, the darker-skinned woman hastily added, "This morning marks the seventh day since our mission to M51-237."

"Thank you Teyla."

Teyla gave her a quizzical look. "For what?"

"You brought us back, did you not?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. Once we heard an explosion from the temple, Ronon, McKay and I sent the non-military back to Atlantis with an escort of two while we and the remaining two marines went back to look for you. We were forced to break down the door to the temple and that's… that's where we found you and Col. Sheppard." Teyla appeared a little ill at this memory. "We could pick up no other lifesigns, and McKay was detecting an energy buildup inside of the temple, so we brought you to the ring of the ancestors as fast as we could. We… sent a puddle jumper back after a few hours had passed but…." She shook her head. "We were unable to establish a wormhole to the planet."

Elizabeth sat back and exhaled. In all seriousness, she looked at her visitor and asked, "Has the stand-in destroyed Atlantis yet?"

Teyla burst out laughing. Realizing that this probably meant that no, Atlantis was not in immediate danger of destruction, Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile. She was saved from having to reply with as John began to groan and stir at her side. She laughed a little as he started muttering darkly about loud visitors without bothering to raise his head. "Good morning sleepyhead," she said mockingly.

At the sound of her voice, John raised his head so quickly he nearly cracked it into her jaw. "Elizabeth?"

"Of course, did you th—" Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "J-John? What happened to you?"

In response to her shock, John merely appeared uncomfortable and stared at her in fascination, just as Teyla had.

"John… you look…"

"Young? Hot? Studly?" the man offered, his teasing flyboy smile snapped back in place and laughter brimming in his eyes.

Elizabeth didn't reply, and just continued to stare at him. John Sheppard, _her_ John Sheppard, didn't look a day over twenty-five. He had always maintained a youthful appearance, true, but this was different. If she were a bartender back on Earth, Elizabeth probably would have carded him in an instant. His face was less gaunt, his hair thicker, and he possessed that certain glow about him that only youth could provide. He really wasn't all that different. And yet, he was.

"Didn't I mention he woke up as a bloody medical miracle Elizabeth?" Carson asked as he strode over.

Unable to find words, Elizabeth simply gaped like a fish. Probably not the best expression for the leader of the Atlantis expedition to be wearing, but still…

While John at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, Teyla and Carson just chuckled, and Carson threw in, "If you can't even speak after clapping eyes on this young man here, you're probably going to faint dead away when you first encounter a mirror, lass." The doctor winked at her and began disconnecting the IV and various medical machines. "You're a wee sight prettier."

Smiling excitedly, Teyla produced a hand mirror from the bedside table and held it up for Elizabeth to see. Not believing her eyes, Elizabeth snatched it out of Teyla's hands and clutched it closer to her, as if this could somehow dispel the optical illusion.

It didn't.

She, like John, looked to be in her early twenties. She could have taken the image in the mirror and slapped it in her college yearbook, down to the last freckle. Her cheeks were rounder and her eyes seemed brighter, not to mention that her hair contained significantly more red it now. There were, of course, more freckles, and to be honest, Elizabeth felt like a child. Fearful that this was just some elaborate prank that Chuck had enlisted McKay to assist him with, Elizabeth prodded her own face. Mirror Elizabeth did likewise. She did it again. Same result.

Dropping the mirror with a clatter, she threw off her blankets and looked down at herself in the thin white hospital gown. _Oh my god_… she thought to herself. It was definitely her, but it was definitely not her current self. "H-h-how is this possible?" she asked in something between a controlled tone and a shriek.

Carson looked at her with a serious expression on his face. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "All I know is that, biologically, both your and Col. Sheppard's bodies appear in every way to be between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-six, approximately. You still have all of your scars and healed broken bones, but whatever the ball of purple light Col. Sheppard described to me did to you, it's still you. Your brains have remained largely unaffected, as well. You're both in perfect health. (Although you, my dear, seem to be slightly anemic. We'll talk about that.) When they brought you in, you seemed your perfectly normal selves. But then…" Beckett shook his head in amazement.

"It was as if we were watching you age backwards," Teyla finished for him, her warm eyes wide.

Elizabeth stilled, feeling icy dread fill her. "That orb, whatever it was… it killed four good men. Why did it do this to us?" She looked to the people surrounding her. It was clear from their expressions that they didn't know, and that disturbed her greatly. "No, no, no, no, _no_…" she muttered, voice rising to a near shout. "Dr. Beckett, you have to reverse this _now_!"

The doctor blinked. "Elizabeth, I really don't think that—"

"What?" she demanded, suddenly feeling inexplicably terrified. "You don't think that _what_? Carson, I saw what that… that… _thing_ did to those men and _let me tell you_ that under _no_ circumstances will I accept that something so horrible could ever beget _anything_ that is good! I need you to reverse this _now_!"

The room was utterly silent as Beckett and Teyla stared, shocked, at her livid form. She was trembling slightly, and breathing hard, staring at them right back. John was the only one who didn't look surprised.

"'Lizabeth," he began gently, his now boyish features filled with an empathy that she couldn't help but respond to and focus her attention onto him. "He can't. I already asked, and he can't 'Lizabeth. He can't."

She didn't know if she was more surprised that Beckett had declared something impossible after seeing what had just happened to her, or that Colonel John Sheppard had just called her, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, 'Lizabeth.

"Anna and her team have begun to study their photos of the temple's writings, Elizabeth," Teyla injected in a diplomatic voice. "I am sure that you would be welcome to visit them and inquire after their findings."

This at least, set Elizabeth's mind a little more at ease. Maybe once she learned what the orb was and why it had attacked the men and de-aged herself and John, Carson would be able to reverse whatever it had done to them. (And honestly, she wasn't _that_ old. She should add tactlessness to the orb's list of offences. Second, of course, to murder.)

Angry, confused, and more than a little hungry, Elizabeth turned back to Carson. "Am I free to leave?"

The doctor hesitated, but obviously noticing that she was taking the situation quite hard, relented. "All right, you can go. _But_," he added, raising a finger at John, who appeared entirely too giddy, and eying Elizabeth. "I am _not_ clearing either of you for active duty just yet. You must check in with me, or one of the nurses, every six hours, and return here to sleep at night." He glared at Elizabeth. "And _you _have to eat. Three full meals a day."  
Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth pointed out, "Carson, you are _always _telling me to eat more than I do."

The doctor appeared smug. "Regardless, this being a medical matter, you have to obey my orders Dr. Weir. If you don't eat out in the city, I have full authority to _make_ you eat here."

Seriously considering opening her mouth to retort quite sharply, Elizabeth was unreasonably startled when John took ahold of one of her hands and gave a gentle tug in the direction of the infirmary doors. "Come on 'Lizabeth," he coaxed, giving her the puppy eyes that never worked on Carson but worked on her more than she would like to admit. "I'll walk you back to your quarters so you can get dressed. Breakfast's on me."

Elizabeth sighed, but didn't resist. "See you in six hours, Dr. Beckett," she muttered to his answering grin.

For a time, Elizabeth followed John in silence, idly wishing that she had had the foresight to ask for a set of scrubs. The hospital gown was a bit… breezy. But she really couldn't bring herself to care. "I'm sorry for that, John," she sighed, walking forwards with a bit more purpose. "I just…"

"Don't have any idea what the _hell_ just happened?" John suggested with surprising vehemence. "How? Or more importantly, why? Why us? Why _this_?" He gestured to himself with some disgust. "It doesn't make _any _sense at _all_!" Hands thrown into the air, John sped up as well, a dark scowl contorting his features.

Elizabeth turned her head and scrutinized him intently, before smiling at him. "I'm glad you understand. And can actually put it to words!" She really was actually impressed. To anyone who knew Sheppard, witnessing the event of him putting something that had to do with emotions into words was an occasion for a full holiday.

For his part, Sheppard groaned. "They didn't see it," he said with conviction. "It's not as real to them." Turning towards her abruptly, John placed his hands on her shoulders and stared straight into her face. "We _need_ to know what's happened to us," he insisted.

Elizabeth just gave him that long, sad look that she often caught herself giving him, when they had entire conversations with their eyes. After a long moment, all she felt needed saying were two simple words. "I know."

They continued on in silence, until Elizabeth swiped her hand across the crystals at her door. She made to continue on inside her standard Atlantis living area, but paused as John hesitated, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. At seeing him, Elizabeth softened somewhat, feeling a rush of emotion. "Come in, John. If… if you want to that is."

Wincing, Elizabeth realized too late as she walked in that her quarters appeared very… lived in, despite never having actually had much time to decorate or add personal items. "I'm sorry about the mess," she threw in hurriedly, scooping up a few items of clothes that she had left draped over a chair and shoving them quickly into her hamper.

"I don't even think my quarters _came_ this clean!" John laughed lightly, and Elizabeth smiled gratefully at his lie.

Uncomfortably, she ran a hand through her reddish hair and she realized that she literally hadn't showered in a week. "Would you mind too terribly much if I took a moment for a quick shower? I just… need one," she ducked her head embarrassedly.

John's eyes widened ever so slightly, but he dutifully seated himself on a chair in a corner and flashed her a grin. "I've waited a week, I can wait another fifteen minutes." His grin grew wider. "Take your time. Enjoy it."

Shooting the man a grateful look, Elizabeth wasted no time in rushing into her adjoining bathroom and kicking the door shut behind her. But she couldn't help but wince as she found herself faced with the mirror above the sink. Looking at herself was now… morbidly fascinating. Carefully, Elizabeth undid the white hospital gown and let it drop to the floor before peering closer. What she saw there made her gasp in frustration. She looked like a mere child with those freckles, she thought mournfully. It had taken ten years for her to gain a more mature appearance, and with that appearance stripped away… no one would take her seriously ever again!

Deciding that thinking on it further would only depress her, Elizabeth took a steadying breath and turned on the hot water in the glass stand-up shower stall, holding her hand under the stream and adjusting the temperature to something just under scalding before stepping in.

She immediately decided that being clean was her absolute favorite thing in the world.

* * *

"You know, you really aren't all that different, you know," John said as she stepped out of the bathroom.

It took a few minutes for Elizabeth to disentangle her head from the towel she was drying her hair with, but once she did, she looked up at him with surprise. "Pardon?"

Doing an admirable job of ignoring the state of Elizabeth's damp, wild hair, John answered frankly, "You look younger, but you don't look different. You act the same, speak in the same way, smile the same…" He shrugged. "You just don't seem like you've changed a whole lot. Although…" A wicked grin split her 2IC's face as Elizabeth's expression switched over from contemplative to slightly wary. "I really do like the freckles."

Green eyes wide with irritation, Elizabeth clapped her hands over her cheeks. "Not the freckles!" she complained loudly. "I _hate_ them! They had disappeared, but now they're back!"

"No, no, they're great, really!" John laughed, walking up and tugging her hands away. "You just never told me that you had freckles, and I've never thought of you with any. I'm surprised, but I like them, honest!"

Elizabeth just threw the towel in his face and started combing quickly through her hair.

"Come on, 'Lizabeth. They're really kind of—_hey!_"

Elizabeth just smiled smugly, squeezing the last drop of moisture out of her hair and onto John's shirt. "Serves you right," she informed him, snatching her towel back as he looked at her with exaggerated betrayal. "Let's get to the mess. I'm absolutely _starved_."

* * *

The mess hall was absolutely silent, which _never_ happened. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, Elizabeth paused just inside, physically halted by the weight of the stares of her crew. She knew that John hadn't even managed to make it in the door.

Holding her chin up strongly, Elizabeth made a valiant effort to pull herself together, tucked and errant strand of drying hair behind one ear, and strode purposefully foreword towards the breakfast line. Blessedly, the chatter in the room resumed, although she could still feel the eyes of her people trained fixedly upon her and John. She did her best to ignore them, focusing instead on the food that was being served today and how hungry she was, which was very.

Tray full, Elizabeth nodded politely to a gaping food server and waited for John (who was also, apparently, very hungry). "This way," he told her with false cheerfulness, weaving his way through the crowded tables as Elizabeth followed close on his heels. It didn't take long for them to reach an empty table, and they sat down next to each other and tucked in, too busy eating to speak. And honestly, Elizabeth didn't feel the need to. She was a diplomat, certainly, and was a great believer in the power of words by default. But she also knew that speaking was pointless when there was nothing to say.

"I am glad to see you to up and about," Teyla said mildly, walking up to the table and sitting down across from them as if she hadn't a care in the world. Ronon and Rodney were with her as well, McKay joining Teyla across the table and Ronon flopping down next to John. As he did so, a curious expression crossed the tall man's face, and much to everyone's surprise, he leaned down and sniffed (yes, actually _sniffed_) John's shoulder.

John jumped, appearing disturbed. "Ronon man, do you _mind_?"

Ronon, for his part, seemed unabashed. "Sheppard, you _do_ know that you smell like fruit, right?"

Silence reigned for a moment, before Elizabeth burst out laughing, earning herself a few stares. Leaning over and attempting to smother her own giggles, she put her mouth to John's ear and whispered, "Bet you didn't know that my shampoo smells like strawberries."

Apparently, he didn't, because the man's youthful features turned beet red and he looked at her with horror. "I give you one little compliment and you sic Ronon on me?" he said, offended.

"We don't mention the freckles," Elizabeth informed him, still laughing. "I had to impress that upon you _somehow_."

Failing miserably at holding his incredulous expression, John laughed too. Elizabeth didn't know why the situation was so funny, but it was. She supposed that it didn't really have to make sense.

"What the hell?"

"Yes, Dr. McKay?" Elizabeth responded innocently, suddenly aware that all three of their table guests were appraising John and herself as if they had grown extra heads.

It was Teyla who decided to improve upon Rodney's tactlessness. "We are a bit lost, Elizabeth, and would appreciate it if you would explain the circumstances of this joke."

Suddenly realizing how strange her behavior must seem to the others, Elizabeth sobered immediately, smile melting off of her features. Here she was, laughing at something ridiculous with John, when she still had yet to discover the reason behind the deaths of four of her men, and the own changes that had been foisted upon her body. What was she thinking? She had a city to run. Some leader she was turning out to be.

"I'm sorry, Teyla. Maybe another time," Elizabeth offered dully, getting to her feet. She straightened her shoulders. "Thank you for escorting me to breakfast, John," she said, without even looking at him, as she walked away, heading vaguely for the control room.

How had she possibly gotten herself into this position?

* * *

_Yup. Elizabeth's a clam. Maybe someone will finally get her to loosen up? *winkwink*_

_Thanks SO FREAKING MUCH to my reviewers. All two of you have my eternal love!_

__**Type in that review box. I double dog dare you.**


	3. The Psychology of Flowers

This one's a bit... interesting. But it was pretty fun to write, I must admit, even though a lot of it was setting up for later issues. There are some good and bad repercussions of the change here.

I got more reviews for last chapter, and as a reward, here's chapter 3. (No one said I was above bribery!) Keep it up!

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 3  
The Psychology of Flowers

* * *

_Captain Montega, Lt. Miller, Lt. Sean, and Lt. Beyermaltsze stood before her, looking at her with some concern. They were within the temple at M51-237, but aside from she and they, no one else was present. They were alone._

_ "Are you alive?" Elizabeth heard herself ask dully, fixing them in her gaze._

_ Matthew Sean nodded vigorously, and Evan Montega smiled. "Yes ma'am," he offered._

_ "Am I?" Her voice was dead, despite the fact that at their words, joy suffused through her. It was incredibly frustrating that her dream self did not seem inclined to express it._

_ Appearing slightly uncomfortable, Jacob Miller reminded her, "Could you be standing here, talking to us, if you weren't?"_

_ "No, I suppose not." To her triumph, Elizabeth felt her dream-self release a slow smile; but she soon realized that the smile was far too cold to mean anything good._

_ As if hearing her suspicions, dream-Elizabeth smiled even wider, and to Elizabeth's alarm, she raised her hand towards the men, who were backing away from her with expressions of revulsion carved onto their faces. "I know what I want," she spat. "And I intend to take it."_

_ Then, the hand that was stretched out before her moved grotesquely, and Elizabeth's carefully manicured nails twisted themselves into claws while a slit opened up in her palm. Montega, Miller, Sean, and Beyermaltsze screamed together and convulsed, shriveling away into empty husks as dream-Elizabeth hissed with pleasure. Elizabeth struggled and screamed, trying to take back control and save the suffering men, but with each passing moment, dream-Elizabeth and her Wraith hand grew stronger._

_ "Dr. Weir, why are you doing this to us?" Beyermaltsze screamed through his agony, tears streaming down his ravaged face. "We trusted you, Dr. Weir! Stop, _please_!"_

_ Dream-Elizabeth laughed. The four men finally died. And Elizabeth screamed her outrage._

_ "No! No! Someone help them! Anyone, _please_!"_

With a spectacular crash, Elizabeth tumbled out of her cot and onto the floor. She lay there for a few heartbeats, dazed and disoriented, before a sob clawed its way out of her throat, followed quickly by another.

It wasn't real. It _wasn't_. But if that were really true, why did she feel so hideously guilty?

She was alive. She was alive and healthy and frankly feeling physically sound enough to swim laps around Atlantis just because she could. And where were they? Dead. Blasted into pieces so small that she couldn't even send anything home to their families. They had trusted her, and she had failed.

Elizabeth didn't even try to get up off the cold infirmary floor. Hugging her knees tightly to her chest, the woman simply huddled where she had fallen and let the tears stream shamelessly down her face, not even bothering to untangle herself from her sheet.

"'Lizabeth? Are you all right?"

It was John. Not one single person in Atlantis, other than him, had the balls to call her that. She hadn't seen him since she had walked out on him in the middle of breakfast.

Briefly, she debated answering him, but decided that she just didn't have the energy, much less the desire to. At the moment, she hated herself for what she had become, but couldn't bring herself to blame John. It was her that was the monster here, not him. Never him. Maybe, if she didn't answer, he would leave her alone.

She should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"Oh my god… 'Lizabeth…" John breathed from somewhere above her. In an instant, he was kneeling in front of her and pulling her chin to face him with gentle hands.

She wouldn't…. _couldn't_ look at him. Instead, she chose to look at the floor. It was so much easier that way…

"'Lizabeth… Look at me. Please." His voice was incredibly gentle. Gentler that _she'd _ever heard, at least.

But she couldn't. Chin and lips trembling, Elizabeth shook her head, still staring at the floor.

"'Lizabeth…" He was scolding her now, taking her face between both of his hands and brushing away a few tears with his thumbs. After a long moment and a silent battle of wills, Elizabeth reluctantly raised her puffy eyes to meet his cool hazel ones. She didn't see hatred there, or more importantly, pity. He just looked at her calmly, as if reading her feelings through her eyes, which impressed Elizabeth really. She had underestimated his perception, deceived by his distinct lack of social skills.

He was better than he admitted.

Still acting as if he were doing nothing more unusual than offering her a cup of coffee, John settled silently at her side and put an arm around her, pulling her into a comfortable hug. Passed caring, Elizabeth let him.

"You do know that Beckett's going to send us to Kate in the morning, right?" he sighed into her hair.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, considering what might happen if they were caught in this rather… compromising… situation, before finally relaxing into his grip, leaning her head into his shoulder, and closing her eyes. "I know," she responded miserably.

* * *

"Can you tell me what you first thought when Teyla first handed you that mirror, Elizabeth?" Kate Heightmeyer asked, leaning forewords, an expression of deep interest painted over her cherubic features.

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her padded seat, hating being here. But like John had predicted the night before, Carson had insisted. It wasn't that she had a problem Dr. Heightmeyer. Quite the opposite in fact: she adored the woman. But Dr. Weir herself was a proud woman, and despite the fact that the rational part of her recognized that she desperately needed help in dealing with what had happened to her, the rest of her objected strongly to the indignity of being forced to come here and discuss her _feelings_. She was Dr. Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition. Neat, well put-together, no loose ends.

It was hard to admit, but she definitely had a loose end now, after M51-237. Probably more than one.

"Disbelief, first and foremost," Elizabeth said without pause, resigning herself to her fate. "Then… fear. Anger. Confusion. It's hard to die and then wake up almost fifteen years younger than you thought you were," she admitted, interlocking her fingers and gazing fixedly at them.

Kate nodded, completely at ease. "And afterwards, after you had time to process what had happened more fully?" she prompted.

Smiling sardonically, Elizabeth acquiesced and continued. "I was guilty, mostly. I mean, I literally watched four men get blown to pieces and suddenly I've been given a facelift on steroids, without a catch?" She laughed bitterly. "It's not fair. Especially to them. And I don't even know what happened! For all I know, they_ died_ to give me this and I…" The words seemed to stick in her throat. "I can't live with that, Kate. I can't. I don't even know _what_ to feel anymore."

"Elizabeth… I know that I can't ever tell you exactly what happened to you, because I don't think I'll ever understand myself," Kate began earnestly, looking nearly as concerned as Elizabeth felt. "But I can tell you this. Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for this," she insisted, seeing Elizabeth's skeptical expression. (How had she known that the shrink would say that to her? Oh yeah, they told _everyone_ that.) She paused a moment, and then her demeanor softened. "It was out of your control. You were scared. Terrified, really. And now, you can't understand," came her observation. "You're used to command. To being in control. Or, at the very least, being something other than helpless. You're a strong woman Dr. Weir, but nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome."

Blinking a little at the amended approach, Elizabeth shot Kate a shy smile, admitting to herself that she did indeed feel a little better in spite of herself. But instinctively, she knew that her problems were far from over, and the expression quickly melted off her face to be replaced by one of brooding.

"Thoughts?" Dr. Heightmeyer queried, arching a blonde eyebrow.

"I just… worry what people will think of me," Elizabeth responded immediately. "The IOA especially. I'm under no delusions that they'd be more than happy to fire me, but it still concerns me that with this on top of everything else… they could easily make a case that I've been compromised, and not even my supporters at the SGC could object." She massaged her temples wearily.

"Knowing you, you'll be fine," Kate assured her. "You wouldn't give up on us that easily."

A thoughtful expression suddenly crossed the blonde doctor's face. Leaning forwards again, she observed solemnly, "But you've been feeling trapped and anxious for a while now, haven't you?"

Elizabeth just shifted uncomfortably.

"You know, Elizabeth, you rarely come to see me." Kate pointed out, smiling cordially and waving away her patient's apologetic expression. "But I can't help but wonder, do you have anyone that you can confide in? You are, of course, welcome to come and see me anytime, but I am curious as to how you cope with all the stresses of your life."

Elizabeth bristled a bit, but ended up simply sighing. "No, not really. I do have friends here that I greatly value, but even for them…" she trailed off before visually gathering her thoughts and proceeding. "I can't share much of a personal nature with _anyone_ here on Atlantis, for obvious reasons. If I have a problem, I take care of it myself. That's the way it has to be. If I had to choose who my best friend is though," Elizabeth sighed, trying to sate the doctor's curiosity, "I suppose I'd have to say John, in a way. Most people… they just see me as Dr. Weir. I have a few friends who know me on the side as Elizabeth, and they're very important to me. But John… John can see me as both, one or the other, anything I need, really. And he doesn't expect me to _be_ anything: only to do my job and do it well."

"Well that's good!" Kate responded happily.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth just slumped in her chair and ran a hand through her hair. "But there are some things… a lot of things, that I still can't share with anyone. Even John," she corrected softly. Then, under her breath she added bitterly, "_Especially_ John."

The sharp click of a pen sounded from Kate's chair, and Elizabeth looked up to see her making a note on a clipboard, frowning slightly. She couldn't tell if the frown was directed at what she was writing, or merely a result of concentration. Needless to say, she hoped it was the latter.

"Do you wish you could?" she asked, looking up from her clipboard and locking eyes with Elizabeth. "Form relationships with the people in Atlantis that go beyond the professional, I mean?"

"Technically, I already have," Elizabeth pointed out. "But I see what you mean. I love being in Atlantis more than anything else, and if I had to choose between being here and having closer friends, I'd choose Atlantis in a heartbeat. I choose it every day I stay here. But frankly, some days, I just wish I didn't _have_ to choose."

Dr. Heightmeyer opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly feeling very sure of herself, Elizabeth cut her off before she even began. "Dr. Heightmeyer, I know very well that the services you provide to the crew of Atlantis are more valuable than anyone else realizes," she said sternly. "You make life here bearable for all of us, and can always find a way to help. However, in the cases of all of the senior staff, I think you'll just have to accept that there's nothing you can do. Even _you _can't help us not be lonely."

A mischievous grin, the likes Elizabeth had never witnessed on this particular person before, split Dr. Heightmeyer's soft features. "Actually, Elizabeth, I think I can," she said smugly. "But I'll need a favor from you. How soon can you arrange for a wormhole back to Earth?"

* * *

Leafing through the folder in her hands distractedly, Elizabeth stifled a yawn as she walked purposefully down the hallway in search of John, ignoring the occasional stare from passerby. He was supposed to be taking inventory of the small arms lockers today, and so this is where she was looking for him. After she had sent Kate Heightmeyer back to the SGC at the doctor's request nearly two days ago, Elizabeth had taken a moment to give General Landry an unofficial heads-up as to her and John's position. The man had, of course, immediately requested that an official report of the entire incident be filed and a copy sent back to the SGC at Elizabeth's earliest convenience. Arriving on the Daedalus not four hours ago, a very shocked Col. Caldwell had immediately demanded the same thing. (The priceless expression on the man's face after clapping eyes on John and herself for the first time had considerably brightened Elizabeth's day.) It was an easy enough request; and now all that was missing was Col. Sheppard's mission report.

Nearing Small Arms Locker 12, Elizabeth could clearly hear John's voice from within. She quickened her pace, but slowed a little ways away as she registered his words.

"Flowers? For me? You shouldn't have!" His tone was flippant, and Elizabeth felt the sudden urge to grin, stopping just outside the door of the locker so the room's occupants couldn't see her. It wasn't eavesdropping. It was… observation.

"Hardly," another male voice answered back in a tone that was slightly condescending. "I beamed down from the Daedalus two hours ago and happened to see you talking with a very lovely young lady in one of the labs. These are for her. I can't seem to find her though, so I wondered if you could tell me where she might be."

"I work with quite a few women here in Atlantis," John pointed out, sounding bored. "Got a name for me?"

"No, but I can describe her. She wasn't military. Rather tall, curly brown hair, green eyes?"

Elizabeth groaned inwardly. He could only possibly be talking about her.

"Wait, are you telling me you brought flowers down from the botany lab on the Daedalus to give to a woman you haven't even had a conversation with?" John definitely sounded amused now, probably because he knew whom the man was talking about as well.

As for his unknown companion, he sounded suitably flustered. "Well… yes. But I really don't need a lecture from you right now. Can you, or can you not, tell me where I can find her?"

John was silent for several long moments, and Elizabeth felt like she had to physically tamp down her curiosity, wanting to wait and hear what he would say. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was dark and deadly serious. "Yes, I know exactly who you're talking about, although it's obvious _you_ don't. However, she's a big girl and can take care of herself, so I won't stop you. I just have a bit of advice for you before you go chasing after her though, so I recommend you listen up. One: take those orange flowers out of the arrangement because she detests that color. Two: try not to humiliate her in a public place. And three:" John continued over the man's offended protests, letting more force leak into his tone, "Treat her with respect. Because if I find out you didn't, I will personally dial the 'gate to a Wraith-occupied planet and shove you through with nothing but a letter-opener. Am I clear?"

Elizabeth decided that this was the moment in which she should probably intervene. Walking in briskly as if she hadn't just been standing out in the hall, she said innocently, "John! There you are. I've been looking for you." Glancing from her military commander and the obviously irritated crewman holding an… interesting… arrangement of flowers and back, she asked, "Is everything all right?"

John really didn't have time to answer before the man in the Daedalus uniform perked up at the sight of her and threw himself into the conversation. "Ah, I knew you'd be around here somewhere," he said, sounding pleased. He then presented his flowers with a flourish and shot her a winning smile. "My name is Dr. Marcus Zimmerman of the Daedalus."

"He's new," John pointed out from somewhere behind him.

Biting back her own amusement for the sake of decorum, Elizabeth simply answered, "I can see that," before turning her attention back to Dr. Zimmerman. In all fairness, he wasn't an unattractive man. He was of average height and build with a pleasant face and a meticulously groomed head of dark hair. In Elizabeth's estimation, he was in his late twenties or early thirties.

Graciously, Elizabeth accepted the bouquet of rather sickly-looking flowers of pink, blue, and lurid orange and smiled at the man, tucking the folder under one arm. "Thank you, Dr. Zimmerman. That's very kind of you. My name's Elizabeth," she told him, certain that if the poor man really knew whom he was talking to, he would have soiled himself by now. Behind him, John's eyes were dancing with amusement and he was grinning like an idiot before Elizabeth shot him a look that said 'Be nice!'.

"The pleasure's mine, I assure you Elizabeth," Zimmerman replied warmly, completely ignoring John and her silent communication to him. Appearing politely interested, he sidled a little closer and asked conversationally, "So, have you been in Atlantis for very long?"

"From the original expedition," she responded, feeling sorry for Zimmerman despite (or perhaps because of) his feeble attempts at flirting with her.

Eyebrows raised, Zimmerman seemed suitably impressed. "That's no mean feat," he complimented her. "This is my first mission on the Daedalus, myself. Tell me Elizabeth, what do you do here? Do you work in the labs?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Elizabeth continued smoothly, aware that John had retreated into the back of the locker and seated himself on a crate, shoulders shaking with silent laughter but refusing to let his reaction phase her. "I lead the expedition."

"You… do?" Eyes wide, Zimmerman's voice faltered as he processed what she had just said.

"Oh yes," Elizabeth offered, her face still betraying nothing but polite interest. "I suppose that Col. Sheppard over here wouldn't have told you if you didn't ask, but surely you've heard my name, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, before, in one of your briefings," she deadpanned.

"I… of course I have, Dr. Weir," Zimmerman responded, his flirtatious manner replaced instantly by one of extreme discomfort and mild confusion as he realized how he had just treated the renowned leader of the Atlantis expedition. He had obviously (and correctly) assumed her to be older. "I'm… very glad you liked the flowers but… I'm afraid that I'm late for a meeting with a colleague. Another time, perhaps?"

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled patiently at him, dipping her head in farewell as the man made a hasty escape, obviously afraid that she was going to have him thrown in Atlantis' brig. "Give my regards to Col. Caldwell!" she called after him.

The locker was silent for a moment as Elizabeth placed the sickly bunch of flowers on a nearby shelf with an expression of mild disgust. Removing those heinous orange buds from the arrangement had been an excellent suggestion, but the package wouldn't have been improved much anyways.

"Oh my _god_!" John hooted from his perch on the crate, finally bursting into a fit of giggles. "Did you see that poor bastard's _face_ when he realized who he'd been insulting and who he'd just hit on?"

"Yes, John. I was there," Elizabeth sighed, brushing her hands off on the pants of her uniform. She wasn't really as annoyed at him as she pretended. John's juvenile attitude was generally refreshing, but she didn't want to encourage him more than his new youthful energy already had. Although, if Elizabeth was being entirely honest with herself, she had begun to find it increasingly difficult to sit still in recent days as well.

Ignoring her attitude, John sprang to his feet and bounced up to her, grinning as he put her hands on her hips and gave him a look. Unsurprisingly, he ignored that too and instead clasped his hands under his chin, tilted his head to one side, and fluttered his eyelashes at her. The overall impression was one of a flirtatious schoolgirl.

"Oh Dr. Weir!" he squeaked out, obviously mocking the rather nasally tone of Dr. Zimmerman. "I've been cooped up in a metal box for weeks, and I think you're hot. Do you think this exotic fungus will help me get laid?"

A young lab tech that had been passing by in the hallway at that particular moment stumbled, turning a vibrent shade of scarlet, and scurried away, doing his best not to look at them.

"John!" Elizabeth scolded, mortified.

He smirked, straightening up and resuming his normal posture. "What? You were thinking it too!"

Elizabeth just rolled her eyes, letting it slide. "Your mission report from M51-237?" she asked, sticking out her hand.

"I gave it to Anna's team so they could compare it to the temple writings. If you'd like, we can go get it together and hear what they've come up with so far."

"I'd like that," Elizabeth admitted with the tiniest of smiles. She followed him out the door.

* * *

_And that's that._

_In response to a question that REALLY amused me, yes, Elizabeth is hot. I mean, she's attractive even as someone in her 30s, but now it isn't as if she's more or less hot, just different. I'm sure she's extremely attractive. As for being more or less awkward, I know she FEELS more awkward, but not only does she probably associate that particular appearance with a more awkward stage in her life, she's just been thrown into a differently aged body. I think that'd make me feel a little uncomfortable too._


	4. The Cupid Shuffle

_So, so sorry for the delay! Life and I had a little disagreement, but I hope you enjoy this rushed installment. Major scene change to come next chapter, btw._

_Also, I had a question about timeline. In answer, I will say that this occurs after the episode Sunday, but AU in that Carson is alive. (I can't stand that he died, so forgive me that.)_

_Thanks for those who reviewed, BOO to those who didn't! :D_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 4  
The Cupid Shuffle

* * *

Today _seriously_ wasn't her day. In a vain attempt to ward of an oncoming migraine, Elizabeth rested her forehead in the palm of her hand and closed her eyes for a few blissful moments, allowing darkness to claim the vision of her stark office and the control room below. It hadn't taken too long for Atlantis to get used to her new appearance. There weren't even very many jokes now to make her life miserable. But today was an official day of rest for Atlantis, set in advance of Dr. Heightmeyer's sudden departure to Earth; the fourth after the fiasco the first had turned out to be, what with the exploding people and all. Carson had been stuck in his own infirmary for two weeks, but had, obviously, pulled through. Still, after that first day, Elizabeth hadn't taken more than three hours at a time for herself during any of the rest days, and today was no exception.

Today _was_, however, different. For one, it was the first rest day that had come about after the debacle at M51-237. Secondly, even though Anna's team was working hard, they still hadn't made a breakthrough. At least, they hadn't when she and John had gone to see them two days ago, after the Dr. Zimmerman incident, and they would have reported it if they had. And thirdly, today was the first day that Elizabeth actually cared that she was lonely.

It had all started when Dr. Beckett had announced that he was going fishing the night before. Feeling guilty about what had happened the last time he had said 'no', Rodney had jumped at the chance to go. And suddenly, everyone wanted to make plans. Popcorn rations were retrieved from storage, movies and board games erupted into some of the most sought-after items in Atlantis, parties were planned for the evenings, rooms were being booked and bickered over by groups of people hell-bent on spending their day of rest with friends… Quite literally everyone had found someone to spend his or her day with, except for one Dr. Elizabeth Weir.

She would have, of course, probably have declined any invitation to socialize anyways, but at least she would have known that someone wanted to spend time with her. Only to herself would Elizabeth ever admit how much it hurt that no one seemed to want to. Outwardly, she was all business, bustling around like she did almost every day and interacting with the skeleton crew when she needed to, but inwardly, she was pensive and sore. Everyone had someone, even on regulation-bound Atlantis. Rodney had Katie Brown, the marine who stood guard at transporter 12 had the girl from radiology, Teyla had great friends in both the expedition as well as her own people, especially in Ronan. And John… well, Elizabeth wasn't deaf. She heard the giggles and whispers among the females of the crew. If he felt so inclined, John could have any one of them jump in bed with him with very little wooing to do on his part. Even Beckett had options in his on-again off-again girlfriend Laura Cadman. And all of these people had close groups of friends to spend time with in addition to all of this.

Elizabeth really missed having what they had, both in friendship and in romance. She missed having friends who listened to what she said not because they _had_ to, but they _chose_ to. She missed having _friends_, for that matter. However much time she spent with them, it was never enough. However, she also missed having romantic relationships as well.

And it was of course on this morning, when Elizabeth had been feeling so terrible, that Mike had decided to show up and make her morning even worse. Rejecting his offer of another date in a non-confrontational way had taken a lot out of her, and she had soon retreated to her office, only to be found and berated by Colonel Caldwell about something that she couldn't even remember anymore. As soon as he had left, she'd had to deal with two bickering scientists who absolutely refused to compromise about anything at all down in the labs. It had been a long and drudging walk back to her office, where she sat now, head in her hands, eyes closed, headache pending, and _almost_ wishing that someone else would blow up, just out of spite for humanity.

"Dr. Weir, are you feeling ill?"

Startled, Elizabeth jerked to attention, but relaxed a little when she saw that the person in the doorway of her office was only Teyla.

"I'm not ill," she reassured her, moving to clear up her desk a little. "Just tired."

Teyla appeared unconvinced, not moving from her place at the door. "If you require medical assistance, Dr. Weir, Dr. Keller is still on duty and it wouldn't be a problem for her at all to—"

"Teyla, I'm fine," Elizabeth restated firmly, still unused to the natural softness of her 'new' voice, but not wanting to hear any more out of Teyla, cutting the other woman off mid-sentence. "Was there something you needed?"

Silence reigned for a few heartbeats as Teyla regarded her shrewdly, and Elizabeth looked back at her, her gaze even. Finally, the Athosian broke the silence. "It is a day of rest today, is it not? Doing paperwork and pounding sense into men doesn't seem restful, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth's eyebrows climbed into her hairline.

"I was coming to see if you wanted to join the team for a movie because Rodney forgot that John told him to invite you when I passed Mike in the hall," Teyla admitted. "He appeared quite upset, and one of the men in the control room warned me not to disturb you when I arrived here. So, I brought chocolate." The little ration bar was proffered kindly, and Elizabeth had to admire classic female logic.

Instantly, Elizabeth released to rigid pose of professionalism and put her head back into her hands, feeling a sudden rush of affection for Teyla. She had been acting overdramatic all morning, and it wasn't fair of her to take out her personal issues on dear Teyla, who was just trying to be a good friend. "I'm sorry," she said softly as the woman came and sat at the chair on the other side of her desk. "It's been… a trying morning."

"I can see that," Teyla responded, her face flooded with empathy.

Surprising herself, and probably Teyla, Elizabeth found that the expression was all that was needed to shatter the thin shell that was keeping her in one piece. A few tears began to trickle down her face, and she wiped them away furiously, despite the fact that more replaced them almost instantly. She needed to get a grip.

For her part, Teyla appeared alarmed, and dropped the chocolate on the desk unceremoniously before grabbing Elizabeth's hand and gripping it tightly.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me today," Elizabeth apologized with a watery laugh and a sniffle, swiping up the last of her tears and using the hand holding hers as an anchor to the real world, pulling herself together as if the momentary lapse had never occurred. She was still miserable though.

Smiling softly, Teyla shook her head, moving her free hand to assist the other in holding onto Elizabeth's. "There is no need to apologize," she insisted kindly, brown ponytail bobbing when she moved. "I don't mind at all. Do you need to talk about it?"

Elizabeth offered a wry smile. "What's there to talk about? Nothing's changed. I still can't do what I've never been able to. I still don't have what I've never had. Caldwell's still pissy, geniuses are still the most _stupid_ human beings I have yet to encounter and yet are still the only males who _ever_ seem to find me attractive, and the things I want most are the things I can't _have_," she said bitterly. "It's me that's changed. I'm not as controlled as I once was. More... volatile." Speaking the words out loud felt wonderful, and Elizabeth was able to sit up a little straighter, inexplicably feeling a little bit better.

Appearing both confused and distressed, Teyla blinked. "I don't understand," she confessed. "You are only human, are you not?"

"Being only human just isn't good enough," Elizabeth responded sadly. "It never is."

Clearly, Teyla didn't know what to say, and they sat there in silence for a few long minutes, unmoving, before the woman suddenly stood, releasing Elizabeth's hand. "Come with me," she instructed, turning towards the door.

"Teyla, really, I don't have time for—"

"I _will_ radio John and tell him to come over and get you himself," Teyla warned, without turning around. "But I'd rather not, seeing as we aren't going to watch the movie with them."

Surprised, Elizabeth blinked. "We're not?"

"No. We're doing something better."

* * *

"Teyla, this is ridiculous. I wasn't even invited!"

"Yes you were," the Athosian woman replied, her muffled voice somehow finding its way out of the crowded closet she'd stuck her torso into. "I distinctly remember Major Lorne saying that he'd be delighted if you came."

"Teyla, you walked up to him and told him that you weren't going with Ronon to the party, you were going with me," Elizabeth scolded her from her perch on the foot of Teyla's bed. "I'm not a military officer, Teyla, nor do I train with them. Therefore, I wasn't invited to their party tonight. Besides, I can't ruin your night with Ronon."

"Trust me, you won't. We were really only going together because I didn't want to have to go with Lt. Minnex," the woman laughed, finally emerging from the closet, eyeing a crude garment bag she had pulled with her. "I knew I still had it."

"And I _definitely_ can't fit into any of your clothes," Elizabeth threw in for good measure, apprehensive.

Teyla shot her an amused glance. "Dr. Weir, the party is being thrown by Major Lorne and a few marines, yes, but that does not prohibit those invited from selecting someone with which to attend. It's our day off and besides, Major Lorne doesn't mind," she said smugly. "And this dress isn't mine," she added. "I intended it as a gift to a friend I once knew, but only after trading for it did I remember that she hated the color, so I never gave it to her."

Elizabeth eyed Teyla, in her green (and quite revealing) Athosian dress with tangible skepticism. She _so_ didn't have time for this! She didn't want to go to some half-baked drinking binge, (Let's face it, that was her expedition's definition of 'party' and everyone knew it.) But every time she tried to make her excuses and leave, Teyla just gave her that 'Are you seriously trying to get out of this?' look, and Elizabeth didn't have the strength to argue it out with her. However, she drew the line at letting Teyla dress her.

"I'll let you do my makeup," Teyla offered with her most winsome smile, holding out the burlap bag that held the offending item of clothing.

"… You have to do my hair," Elizabeth stipulated, grumpily grabbing the bag, reluctant to admit that Teyla's distractions were working, and she didn't feel quite as miserable anymore.

Her line-drawing skills _really _needed work.

* * *

"Dr. Weir! I didn't know you were coming; I thought you were busy! You look wonderful! And you do too, Teyla!" Laura Cadman gushed, running up to them as best she could in her high heels and grinning her greetings.

Elizabeth couldn't help but grin back. She liked Laura quite a bit, although at times her boundless energy could be a bit tiring.

"Ay, lass, is it really Elizabeth in there, or am I living out one of Sheppard's fantasies?" Carson called out to her, rounding the corner behind Cadman, who snorted in amusement. He was dressed up as well, and Elizabeth assumed he was attending the impromptu celebration with Laura.

Heat flooded beneath her skin as Elizabeth reddened. "Shut up, Carson," she muttered, deciding that she wasn't going to ask him about his fishing trip after that comment.

The Scottish doctor just laughed at her and turned to Teyla. "My, my, Teyla, you look lovely tonight," he told her warmly. "You'll have no shortage of dancing partners." Teyla made a witty remark about 1600 technically being afternoon, and all four of them were soon laughing and joking.

"Come on!" Cadman called, pulling off her heels and strutting down the hall with a swoosh of red fabric. "Let's get to the party."

Still chatting, Carson and Teyla followed and Elizabeth quietly hastened to catch up to them. Her shoes were far easier to move about in than Cadman's or Teyla's, being a pair white flats that Elizabeth had rarely had occasion to wear before, but the blue-grey dress was rather form-fitting and caught about her knees if she took to large of steps, so she was careful not to fall behind.

True to Laura's word, it didn't take long to get there. The party was being held in a large empty room just down the hall that was open along one side to a fantastic view of Atlantis, the large balcony providing half the room's space. They were right on time, and people were filing in from the other end of the hallway as well, all dressed as nicely as they could muster from the limited supplies on Atlantis. It was rather sweet, if slightly haphazard.

As Elizabeth had anticipated, most of those present were members of the military. However, she and Carson weren't the only civilians attending, as dates or otherwise, and so she felt a little bit better being there as she stepped in the door, grinning at the sight before her. The room was decorated jointly by hanging scraps of randomly-colored Athosian cloth and sealed class tubes of glowing… well, glowing something. Elizabeth chose to assume it wasn't dangerous. A cheap boombox was set up at one end of the room on a folding table, blasting ABBA songs (Lorne was written all over that one) and tables with snacks and red onsie cups of Radek's moonshine were situated at the other. People were dancing and chatting and laughing, dressed up in brightly colored blazers (Elizabeth didn't want to know about the marine in a neon green suit.) dresses, and blouses from all cultures of the Earth and the Pegasus Galaxy. Together, it was home.

"That color looks lovely on you, Dr. Weir. I'm glad Teyla convinced you to come."

Turning, Elizabeth smiled widely at the man who had complemented her. "Why thank you, Major Lorne. I'm glad she did too," she laughed, struck by how the first thing people seemed to notice was the fact that, for once, she wasn't wearing red. Well, that and the fact that Major Lorne himself was a little red. She was struck by that too.

"Erm… Ronon and Dr. McKay are over there, by the food, if you wanted to say hi…" Lorne trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning sheepishly.

"I will," Elizabeth said pleasantly, her mood soaring. "You've done a wonderful job, Major Lorne. Thank you." With that, she set off towards the food tables. _They _would_ be there,_ she thought to herself, shaking her head. But she was happy that they were there. "Rodney! Ronon!" she called out when she was close enough, waving a little and sending many 'excuse me's and 'pardon's into the group of people she was weaving around to get to them.

"Elizabeth! Thank God, have you brought any food?" Rodney immediately said as she drew up next to their little trio, focused completely on his stomach, as always.

"Nooo," she replied, making the word two syllables and smiling a little. "Have you been cut off already?"

Rodney sniffed disdainfully. "Of course not, I just—" The man did a double take, staring at her with wide eyes. "I… You…"

"He thinks you look hot," Ronon finished bluntly, taking a bite out of a chicken wing as if that were the most normal thing in the world to say.

"I meant no such thing!" Rodney protested, but halted in his tracks as he saw Elizabeth raise an eyebrow at him, the younger version of her death glare no less intimidating than it had always been. "Not… not that you don't look absolutely stunning Elizabeth, really," he backpedalled quickly and Ronon just watched on in amusement. "It's just that I am not capable of intending to say something so… so… cavemanish!" The sentence was finished with a glare at his large companion, who was pulling a stubborn bit of meat off of the bone of the chicken wing with his teeth, not paying any attention anymore.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Elizabeth fought to hide how amused she was. "In that case, thank you Rodney. How sweet. I'm just going to go…" She gestured vaguely to another area and pulled herself out of the conversation, chuckling to herself as she did so. Over the next thirty minutes, she socialized quite a bit. Almost eighty people were in attendance (much to Lorne and his marine friends' surprise, as they hadn't figured people liked them that much) and they all wanted to talk to her. It was fun, and Elizabeth found that her spirit soared with each smile and complement, vowing every time that she would never again work through an entire rest day. But she was also tired.

Finally extracting herself from a conversation with a very inebriated young marine who was very nice (but also too nice), Elizabeth made her way to the edge of the balcony and away from the dance floor, flushed with the heat of so many people. Leaning against the rail, knees clinking against the glowing vials lining it, she let out a little sigh and took a tentative sip out of the cup she had picked up a while ago but never started on. It was very good, if strong, but Elizabeth decided that one cup was probably good enough for her. She'd never been able to hold her liquor well.

"May I join you?"

Turning, Elizabeth didn't fight the way her face lit up when she saw John standing behind her, in jeans with a formal top and jacket, hair tousled as always and looking... very nice. "You'd still do it even if I said no," she pointed out teasingly.

John laughed easily (probably because of the plastic cup in his hand). "You look absolutely beautiful, you know," he told her, moving to her side and turning to face her. "I think you had half the guys at the party sweating."

"Really?" Elizabeth blurted before she could control herself, eyes wide.

John grinned roguishly. "The janitors won't have to clean your office for two weeks, after the comments I caught a few of those flyboys making not 10 minutes ago. And…" he checked his watch, "in approximately six hours, you should have apology letters waiting for you on your desk."

"You didn't," gasped Elizabeth, clapping a hand to her mouth to hide her ever-widening smile.

"And if I did?"

"John Sheppard, are you defending my honor?" she laughed, a question she had asked him once before with no answer.

He looked at her for a moment, his jovial manner instantly replaced by one that was very somber. "Yes, I am."

For the first time in a very long while, there was a silence between them that Elizabeth felt should have been filled, but wasn't. Not with anything her mind could (or would) translate into coherency, that is. They just looked at each other, green on hazel. Suddenly, she very much regretted wearing the smoky grey backless dress that Teyla had leant her. It suddenly seemed much too… small. The look on John's face as he looked at her… it made heat claw it's way up her spine in a way that was most definitively not conducive to keeping her job.

"John…" His name came out as a whisper, just barely escaping her throat and the chaos of her eternal battle. She could see it on his face as well, as well as his own effort to overcome the sudden, inexplicable confusion that seemed to have ensnared the both of them.

It was John who first succeeded in breaking the silence. "Come on, 'Lizabeth," he said, giving her a sad smile and offering his hand. "Dance with me?"

Putting her cup on the railing, Elizabeth took his hand and squeezed it softly, hoping her eyes conveyed the bittersweet feeling filling her chest cavity. "There is nothing I'd like to do more," she told him honestly.

"Do you know the Cupid Shuffle?" he asked.

"How could I not?" she scoffed.

John grinned at her. "I'll talk to DJ Lorne. He's gotta give the ABBA a rest."

* * *

It was a recurring pattern in Elizabeth's life that whenever something good happened to her, something blew up. Some people might claim this to be an utterly ridiculous assumption, but she didn't even question it anymore. It just was. Living how and where she did, Elizabeth wasn't given to complaining much about this fact either, considering that she was still alive. It was bad karma to whine: she didn't want to risk it. But she never was a lucky sort of person. Conforming perfectly to this pattern of her life, as soon as Elizabeth had decided that she never wanted to leave the party (She hadn't had as much fun in months as she was having during those hours, dancing with John and her other friends) the few technicians left in the 'gate room were all babbling into her earpiece at once. With a single anxious look exchanged between them that conveyed an entire conversation, she and John took off towards the nearest transporter, half the party at their heels.

As it turned out, there had actually been a literal explosion. (John had pointed out the déjà-vu factor while in the transporter, and Elizabeth had just looked at him with horror.)

Swearing most unprofessionally once she smelled the smoke, Elizabeth had sprinted as best she could into the 'gate room, grateful for John's arm at her back propelling her faster. The smoke had only just started to clear, and the woman forced herself to stand still for a moment, close her eyes, count to ten, and go to her happy place in an attempt to block out the shouting and hiss of fire extinguishers as those people who had come with her from the party ran off to see what was going on.

The exercise hadn't really helped, but at least Elizabeth was now capable of forming coherent sentences.

"Dr. Weir! Don't worry, we have everything under control here," a nervous night tech insisted, running up to her looking harried, his hair mussed on one side as if he had been pulling at it. "Just a minor equipment malfunction."

"Report. My desk. Two hours," Elizabeth muttered, ability to form coherent sentences disappearing in a flash, before stepping gracefully into her glass-walled office, shutting the door, and sitting down for the long haul, unwilling to go to bed with all of the chaos.

Some nights, it just didn't pay to interfere.

* * *

"Oh Eliiiizabeeeth…" the singsong voice intruded upon Elizabeth's dreams, and she let loose an incoherent mumble.

"Wakey-wakey Elizabeth," it insisted. "Or I'll have to carry you back to your quarters and find a way to get you out of that dress so you don't ruin it!"

That did it. Elizabeth jumped awake in an instant, shooting upright in her chair quickly and brushing away a bit of paper that had stuck to her cheek.

"Falling asleep at your desk doesn't exactly inspire much faith, 'Lizabeth," John pointed out, dropping a set of manila folders in front of her. The clock read that it was 0100, and personally, Elizabeth thought that this fact alone warranted the whole falling-asleep-at-her-desk thing.

Blinking blearily, Elizabeth made a valiant effort at re-orienting herself. Sucky day, Teyla making her feel better, Major Lorne's party, the ill-timed explosion… "I'll sleep when things stop blowing up," she mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose and making to sort out the mess she'd made of her desk by falling asleep on it. "Why didn't any of the personnel in the 'gate room wake me? Are they still busy with repairs?"

"Nah, they finished those an hour ago," John answered easily, trying to help her with the papers but stopping when she just slapped his hands away. Pointing to the folders he had brought to her, he added, "Those apologies I promised, and the report on the explosion, half an hour overdue. McKay. Artificial citrus flavorings he was testing for authenticity on the crew after he got too drunk to party, that reacted with someone else's midnight snack, some sort of cleaner someone was using, and one of those unused control panels. I don't even want to know," he summarized, shrugging. "McKay's back in the labs now, trying to make flash bombs out of it. Well… after he sleeps it off, that is."

Elizabeth blinked, trying to process the information John had just given her as well as his inexplicable perkiness. Eventually, she gave up, swearing off thinking entirely. "I'm going to bed," she finally muttered. John just grinned.

* * *

_Like it? Hate it? Don't care? Want to discuss the merits of pig bacon versus turkey bacon? Review. I'm always open to criticism or suggestions, and I send imaginary cakes and cookies and Ben&Jerry's to those that choose to share their thoughts with the class! :)_


	5. Jumper

_Hello again! I know, it's amazing, another chapter! Not one of my absolute best, but it's nothing if not interesting. :)_

_As always, a billion thank-you's to those who reviewed._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 5  
Jumper

* * *

Morning arrived with Elizabeth feeling strangely refreshed, even though she'd only gotten about four hours of sleep. Breathing deeply, she turned over under her warm sheets and turned off her blaring alarm, already eyeing the path between her bed and the bathroom and wondering how fast she could turn on the hot water. It took a moment for her to gather the inner strength to get completely out of bed, but once she did, she executed her plan of battle against cold mornings and darted straight to her shower and turning it on, shivering with contentment when the water ran warm moments later over her extended hand.

Blearily, she stumbled through her morning routine: a little toothpaste here, some lotion there, not really paying attention. As per usual, she snagged a red shirt from her closet, pulling it quickly over her head to reduce her contact with the chilly air (Elizabeth was almost always cold) and stepping into some trousers with similar speed. It rarely took her more than forty minutes to start her day; not enough time to wake up properly.

Wincing a little at her youthful-looking freckles as she passed the mirror on her way out, Elizabeth tucked an errant strand of dark hair behind one ear and made her way out of her quarters, yawning. The transporter was only a few doors down from her own, so before she knew it, Elizabeth was trotting up into the control room, nodding good mornings to the staff that was trickling in to replace the night shift.

Elizabeth hadn't even sat all the way down behind her desk when the stargate activated with a hum and a clunk.

"Incoming wormhole!" someone shouted from below, their voice filtering in through the open door of her glass-walled office.

Automatically, with concern creasing her features, Elizabeth scurried from the room and made it down to the 'gate controls just as it finished dialing, the wormhole expanding with a familiar _kawoosh_.

"Receiving IDC… It's Earth, Dr. Weir," Chuck said.

"Lower the shield."

"Receiving radio transmission."

"Put it on speaker." The back and forth was familiar enough to soothe her, as strange as that might sound.

_"Atlantis? This is General Landry from the SGC."_

"SGC, this is Dr. Weir," Elizabeth replied, concerned as to what dire circumstances had resulted in the ZPM from Antarctica being brought down to Colorado Springs. "What seems to be the problem?"

_"No problems here, Atlantis. One of our SG teams discovered a partially depleted ZPM that we currently have access to, and we had a few people who would like to pay you a visit."_

"You're clear to send them through, General." Yeah right. Something pretty dang important must have been happening, even with access to a new power source, seeing as the 'gate bridge wasn't ready for foot traffic yet.

_"Here they come, Atlantis."_

There were several seconds worth of silence, and then the event horizon rippled as three figures emerged. Richard Woolsey appeared less than thrilled to be back in Atlantis, his forehead puckering as he put on a painful grimace that was obviously intended to be a diplomatic smile. Kate Heightmeyer, on the other hand, couldn't have appeared happier to be back. She was grinning delightedly and bouncing on the balls of her feet, nodding her greetings when someone called out to her. In one hand, she gripped a neat black briefcase, and in the other, she held the wrist of a younger woman, who had obviously never been to Atlantis before. (Newbies were easy to spot by their dumbstruck body language.)

Elizabeth smiled without showing teeth and nodded, acknowledging the new arrivals. "They're here, safe and sound," she informed Landry, still wary.

_"Thank you Atlantis, that will be all. Landry out."_

The wormhole shut down with a hiss, and Elizabeth waved at Kate to head to the conference room so they could talk without the hubbub of the 'gate room interrupting their conversation. After asking Chuck to _please_ have someone try and paint over those unseemly scorch marks on the floor left over from last night, Elizabeth quickly ducked into the conference room where the three were just sitting down at one end of the table. "I'm glad to see you Kate," she greeted, seating herself and steepleing her fingers in front of her casually. "In the days you were gone, I'm pretty sure half the expedition lost what little was left of their sanity!"

The doctor smirked and said serenely, "Why do you think they were so impatient to send me back?"

"They wanted to send you back because you were shooting their political careers to hell," Woolsey muttered sourly under his breath, falling silent again immediately. He had been staring at her with the same fascination she had become accustomed to during the first few days after regaining consciousness after M51-237, but was now pointedly avoiding staring.

Elizabeth chose to pass this comment with only a raised eyebrow, for now. "Kate, I don't believe your friend and I have met," she said instead, nodding at the new woman, who snapped her attention back to the conversation as Kate nudged her. She was surprisingly young, seemingly only in her mid to early twenties. (But who was Elizabeth to judge age based on appearance?) Like Kate, she wore a plain formal shirt underneath her Atlantis uniform jacket as if trying to bring a little more professionalism to the practical outfit. But other than this similarity, the two didn't look at all alike. Unlike Kate, the woman was of darker coloring, with tanned skin, a mess of long brown hair, and light brown eyes. Her facial features were overall more prominent and defined, and Elizabeth thought that once she had wiped the expression of shock and awe off of her face, she would appear quite noble.

"I'm very sorry Dr. Weir," she said, blushing profusely and offering Elizabeth her hand. "I suppose that I was a bit too… distracted to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Sarah Evans, and I am the psychologist that Dr. Heightmeyer selected to assist her here in Atlantis."

Raising her eyebrows slightly, Elizabeth shot a look to Kate. "The IOA approved that?"

"Yes, some time ago in fact. I hadn't, however, come across someone suitable to be my colleague here until I met Sarah. Colonel Carter had written to me about her, and when I arrived at the SGC, I knew she'd be perfect here," came the explanation. "It was quite unusual though, how Samantha met her…"

"She hit me with her car," Sarah filled in quietly, her mouth twisting into a wry smile as if the irony of the universe was wearing on her. "I was visiting family in Colorado Springs when I was attacked in an alley. I managed to get away, but I was hurt pretty bad, and when I stumbled into the street, Sam hit me." Sarah winced as she recounted the incident. "Needless to say, I wasn't in very good shape, and Sam didn't think she could get me to a hospital in time, so she had the Daedalus, which was in orbit, beam me to their infirmary. But once I was fixed up, she couldn't exactly explain the fact that I could see outer space through my window very easily!" Laughing, Sarah shook her head, her easygoing pattern of speaking already making a good impression on Elizabeth, as well as her remarkable story. "I was sent to the SGC's infirmary to recover, as the Daedalus was due to leave. You might say that I never left, until now."

Elizabeth nodded her approval and offered the psychologist her hand. "Well, Dr. Evans," she began, giving the girl a half-smile. "As the leader of the Atlantis expedition, let me be the first to welcome you to our city. I hope you'll make yourself at home, because we're all glad to have you."

"Yes, yes, this is all very touching, but we do actually have business to attend to," Woolsey pointed out tartly, reaching into his briefcase and withdrawing a sturdy envelope which he handed to Elizabeth. "It's an invitation to dinner at the White House with the first family, as well as a short briefing," he told her, resettling his glasses on the bridge of his nose and handing her a second folder. "I have one here for Col. Sheppard as well."

Elizabeth looked up sharply, glancing between the three people seated across from her quickly. "Earth thinks we've been compromised," she realized aloud, placing the unopened invitation on the table, clenching her fists, and throwing Kate a look of betrayal. "They're going to replace us as soon as we leave."

"Dr. Weir, I can assure you that's not the case," Dr. Heightmeyer said in her serene, even voice.

Drawing herself up in her chair and putting the emotionless mask she used in negotiations over her features, Elizabeth said frankly, "I'm not stupid, as much as the IOA would believe. I've been running Atlantis for over three years, and I know an excuse when I see one. Why are John and I _really_ wanted back on Earth, if not to replace us, Mr. Woolsey?"

The man appeared uncomfortable, his forehead puckering some more. "Earth just wants to do a few more medical tests on you and Col. Sheppard to learn more about your..." He gestured helplessly. "… condition. You'll be planet-side for three days and be returned to Atlantis immediately via a jumper through the Midway Station, providing everything checks out. I will be here in your absence, as well as the four days following your return, to make a few observations," he explained.

All was quiet for a moment, as Elizabeth stared incredulously at him, stunned by his (and Earth's) gall. "Do I have a choice?" she asked quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Apparently not," Elizabeth sighed, massaging her temples. It was never enough, was it? Atlantis was still intact, and Elizabeth was willing to sacrifice anything to keep it that way. That was more than she could say for anyone they might send to replace John or herself. What's more, she and John were a team. Sure, they'd had their disagreements in the past, but they had emerged stronger for it. Atlantis was stronger for it. No one could run the expedition like they could, but Earth just didn't seem to realize that.

What _very _bad, however, was that Elizabeth could see where they were coming from, and might have even agreed with them under different circumstances. She and John _could_ have been compromised. (Although double medical examinations were, in her current opinion, a bit overkill.) It was a smart decision to check again, if an overly cautious one, so there was nothing she could do to fight the order. Not without seeming hypocritical.

Abruptly, Elizabeth stood, her face still blank. "Thank you, Mr. Woolsey. I will speak with John. We should be ready to leave by 0600 tomorrow in the Jumper Bay." Without pause, her eyes moved from Woolsey to Kate and Sarah (who looked both confused and horribly guilty), her voice never shifting from its flat, dead tone. "Dr. Heightmeyer, I'm glad you're back. Dr. Evans, I'm sure that if Col. Sheppard and I are ever allowed to return, you and I will get along wonderfully. I hope you'll feel at home here."

With that, Elizabeth swept from the room, letter from the President in hand, in search of John.

* * *

"_No_! You're doing it again! Every _single_ time you're down here, it's the same! What is it about the phrase '_Don't touch anything,'_ that you simply cannot get through that thick skull of yours? Here. Let me say it again. Don't. Touch. _Anything_! Do you get it _now_, Sheppard?"

"Having fun, Rodney?" Elizabeth asked mildly, walking into the lab.

Her head scientist was tinged a bright pink, glaring angrily at her military commander who was standing casually next to the shattered remains of something that looked expensive.

Rodney, at least, made an impressive effort to compose himself. "Elizabeth," he greeted in a clipped voice, smoothing out his hair. "Was there something you needed?"

Smiling apologetically, Elizabeth replied, "Only to borrow John."

"Oh thank God!" Rodney gasped, visibly brightening along with John, who didn't seem too keen to be berated any longer. "Take him. Take him. Don't let him come back," he mumbled distractedly, pushing the offending party in her general direction and stooping over the broken piece of equipment, hands already fiddling.

"Love you too, Rodney," John muttered, but happily moved to Elizabeth's side and followed her as she led him into an unused lab space nearby. "Do I have something I have to clean, or did you just want to borrow me for my dashing good looks?" he asked teasingly.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. "Cheeky."

"I try."

A grateful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth for a moment, but the seriousness of the situation soon sobered her. "John, Richard Woolsey came through the 'gate from Earth this morning," Elizabeth stated, green eyes glued to his face.

Picking up on the mood, John's joking mannerisms disappeared as well. "I heard," he mentioned, visibly concerned. "What's he want this time?"

In answer, Elizabeth handed him the envelope that Woolsey had given her at their meeting. She had since opened and read her own thoroughly, discovering that it did indeed explain the situation as well as invite them to a dinner. She watched in silence as John did the same with his own envelope until he looked up at her, confused. "He has one for me as well," she informed him, looking down at their feet and tugging at the hem of her shirt. "We are both expected to be ready to leave for the SGC by morning in a Jumper. It wouldn't do to be late to dinner with the President."

John's eyes narrowed, and Elizabeth looked into his face again, sharing one of their silent 'conversations'. After a long moment, she began again. "And, for convenience's sake, Earth would also like thorough medical examinations to be made of the both of us while we're there."

Sighing, John stepped back, ran a hand over his face, and managed to shoot her a weak smile. "Well, you have to admit; we do have a knack for getting ourselves into compromising positions."

"Uncannily so, and I can't exactly fight them on this," she added morosely, but firmly. "We have to go. As much as I hate it, they're right, and we have to go. At the very least, they're extending every courtesy to us during our stay."

"Dinner with the President. Can't get much more courteous than that," John agreed. "But three days? Is that really necessary?"

"You read the letter. That's how long it takes to run some of the bloodwork," Elizabeth pointed out, crossing her arms. "We don't have to do much for the most part though. Try and think of this like… a vacation."

"Yeah, _that_ will make Teyla feel better when I tell her I'll have to skip out on training with her, which I've been promising to do all week," snorted John, messing his hair with one hand. Elizabeth simply shook her head and made to leave, but stopped, surprised, when John caught her wrist in his hand, not letting her go.

"Look, 'Lizabeth… I'll go. I'm not going to make a fuss about it," he said, suddenly stumbling about for words as Elizabeth watched him curiously, intrigued by the sudden loss of his normally quick wit. "But I don't like it. I don't like being herded around like dumb cattle, you know?"

Elizabeth nodded slowly, and seeing this, John pressed on. "I just… want you to promise me something, all right?" He paused, and Elizabeth nodded again, transfixed by the rarely seen earnest and awkward side of her friend and the fact that he still hadn't released her wrist. "Off-world, everyone knows that you never, ever separate from your team, and in this case, we're a team. I know this is Earth we're talking about but… promise to stick around, all right?" The expression on his face was one Elizabeth wasn't quite familiar with on him, and the mixture of concern and sincerity she saw there totally disarmed her.

Without pausing to even think about it, Elizabeth nodded her head. "All right."

At this point, John finally released her and stepped back again, running the hand through his hair. "If I come back from lunch with broken bones, blame Teyla," he joked sheepishly. "I'll see you in the 'gate room by 0530 tomorrow morning, Elizabeth."

Then, he left, leaving Elizabeth alone and running a hand through her own hair, wondering what had just happened.

* * *

"Dr. Weir."

"Mr. Woolsey."

The greetings were short and to the point, much like Mr. Woolsey himself, Elizabeth thought wryly, shifting her weight slightly to soothe the cold ache in her belly and better offset the small duffel she was taking with her. It didn't hold much; just a spare Atlantis uniform and a set of civvies and a few other items she wanted to have on her person, but Elizabeth refused to take anything bigger, for fear of accepting the possibility that she might not be coming back.

Of course, if she _didn't_ come back, she'd made preparations. Elizabeth had stayed up late into the night with a small mounted camera, recording everything she needed to say to her people if she never got the chance to say it in person and putting it on a flash drive: words of courage, words of sadness, words of wisdom, and one last goodbye. It wasn't enough, and she had said as much on the tape, but it was all she had. Once morning had struck the city, (if the ungodly hour of 0430 could be considered 'morning') Elizabeth had trudged up to the infirmary, literally begging the doctor on duty for pain pills to sooth the angry coil in her abdomen, her body reciprocating the stress of this particular day by rewarding her with particularly aggressive cramps. (Elizabeth was _not_ thrilled.) Carson Beckett was the only person Elizabeth trusted with her recordings, and so on her way out, she had carefully sealed the memory stick in an envelope and left it on the good doctor's desk. He would know what to do.

"Sorry I'm late, 'Lizabeth. I was just… well, you know what I was doing." The voice ruining the silence of the Jumper bay snapped Elizabeth back into the moment rather abruptly, and she nearly dropped her duffel.

"John!" she exclaimed quickly in a last ditch attempt to salvage her dignity, hoisting the bag more firmly on her shoulder and leaning up against the side of the Puddle Jumper commissioned for their return, trying not to look as miserable as she felt. (Woolsey was already inside, waiting.) "It's fine. I wasn't out here long."

Sheppard nodded sleepily, ruffling his hair and dropping his own bag at his feet. He too leaned on the side of the Jumper, although he sagged more than leaned. "Didn't sleep well last night," he muttered in answer to her questioning look. "Nightmares."

"M51-237? Or something else?" Elizabeth asked with considerable sympathy.

"237. And the First Storm, as well."

Elizabeth winced. She still had nightmares about that incident as well. Not as many as John, she imagined, but still… it was enough. "I'm sorry," she told him honestly.

A cocky grin tugged at the corner of John's mouth. "I betcha you aren't as sorry as me!" he pointed out.

Maybe it was that her mood was precarious due to her feminine problems, or it was simply just _way_ too early in the morning for her to function, but Elizabeth grinned right back and even went so far as to childishly stick out her tongue at him. "Always got to have the last word, don't you John?"

"You bet!" he laughed, shoving off the side of the Jumper and walking at her side until they rounded to the open ramp and stepped inside.

Their banter helped Elizabeth forget, just for a moment, that she was leaving Atlantis.

* * *

"You look like a girl in that hospital gown, John."

"Thanks, Mitchell."

"You're welcome. You look like a baby now, too. How're you gonna get yourself a girlfriend if you look like you're twelve?"

"Mitchell, don't you have paperwork to do?"

"Yes. Hey John, wanna play 'Would You Rather?' with me?"

"No."

"Sweet! Okay, would you rather… get caught putting pink dye into Teal'c's shampoo or have to listen to General Landry tell you about his love life?"

From behind her privacy screen, Elizabeth groaned, a new respect for John welling up inside her. Dr. Lam had warned them that Cam was bored, but Elizabeth hadn't counted on him being more obnoxious than even John. It was almost impressive, really.

"Feeling bad for him now, are we?" Dr. Lam asked from behind her penlight as she continued with Elizabeth's physical. Both she and John had to have one, and now Elizabeth was quite glad that she had gotten to go first, otherwise it would have been _her_ that had fallen victim to curious SGC staff constantly poking their heads into the infirmary and in Cam's case, staying to chat.

"A little bit," she admitted, hearing the banter from outside her little screened-off area continue without a hitch.

Dr. Lam just shook her head and nudged Elizabeth off of her perch on the cot and onto a scale. "He probably deserves it," she reassured her bluntly, frowning at the weight reading. "Are you eating enough?"

"Not you too," Elizabeth groaned. First Beckett, now Lam… What was it with doctors telling her to eat and sleep more? She could sleep when she was dead, and coffee could keep her going just fine. Eating took time she didn't have.

"Cam! I need a box of doughnuts in here, _stat_!" Lam shouted suddenly, winking at Elizabeth. "And not the cheap kind either! I have a woman in need of calories, here!"

Mortified, Elizabeth felt heat creeping up her neck and she nearly reprimanded the doctor before she realized that she was just grinning at her, Cam was already gone, and John was calling out to her with audible gratitude from the other side the privacy screen that he would get his paperwork done on time for a whole month.

Apparently, the SGC took their doughnuts very seriously.

* * *

_New characters, new setting, AND doughnuts? Gettin' crazy now. Hope you liked it. :)_


	6. The Color Red

_As a special treat, this one's here early. Aren't I nice to you guys? This chapter's my favorite so far._

_Of course, that's only because I got reviews. Because reviews make me happy, and a happy me makes happy chapters. :D_

_Hope you like it!_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 6  
The Color Red

* * *

Elizabeth knew that her skin had to be about as red as the lace she was wearing, but she was, at the moment, far too embarrassed to move. Hence, she stood there, petrified in a pose of shock and mortification that was almost comical, really: green eyes large and lips slightly parted. Of course, if she were John Sheppard, she wouldn't be looking at her face at the moment.

"Elizabeth I… uh… god… you're…" the man choked out, clearly conflicted as his eyes darted between her face, her body, and a spot on the floor by his feet, backpedalling quickly towards the exit and running a nervous hand through his messy hair.

The reaction gave Elizabeth time to pull herself together… sort of. "John, what the _hell_ are you doing in here?" she shrieked, diving for the neatly folded sheet that sat at the foot of the empty medical cot and wrapping it around herself as best she could. It didn't do much, and didn't leave much to the imagination, but Elizabeth felt better for it.

When she had left the infirmary after her physical, she really hadn't expected _this _to happen.

Having had all of her medical tests taken care of by either Dr. Lam or one of the other doctors in the infirmary, Elizabeth had finally been cleared as safe—again—and had left as fast as she had been able to throw her Atlantis uniform back on. But time was slipping away, and she had a flight to D.C. to catch. So she had come back down to the infirmary, where she had left her civvies, to change. A harried-looking nurse had directed her here, an unused recovery room just off the main infirmary, to change in relative privacy. Obviously, the room wasn't that private, seeing as how she was currently standing there in a lacey red set of underwear (that she just _knew_ she should have replaced a long time ago with military-issue cotton, but hadn't been able to bring herself to do it) in front of her very surprised (and quite possibly scarred) military commander.

"Hey, I just came in here to change. It's not _my_ fault that the nurse who told me to come in here didn't know that _you_ were in here, standing around in your panties," John defended himself, waving about a poorly folded pair of jeans for emphasis and finally deciding on looking at her face instead of the floor.

"I am _not_ 'just standing around in my panties'," Elizabeth snapped indignantly, glaring at him and keeping one fist tight around the ends of her thin sheet and the other planted firmly on her hip. "I happen to be changing into my civvies, and I'm pretty sure I was here first."

For a moment, John looked like he was about to argue with her. But in that same moment, his cocky grin stole over his face again and he remarked coyly, "Really? 'Cause from over here, it just looked like you were checking out your ass in the mirror."

Elizabeth had been pretty sure she couldn't have been more humiliated, but obviously, she had been wrong. This was a new personal low. "John Sheppard, get out of this room _this instant_!" she shrieked, cheeks flaming.

Still grinning like an idiot schoolboy, John held up his hands in mock surrender and backed to the door. "Hey, at least I now have further proof that your favorite color's red," he teased.

He ducked just in time, and the shoe sailed over his head.

"I'm leaving! I'm leaving!" he said quickly, laughing now, and slipped out the door (having the decency to only open it a crack). "Oh, and by the way," he added devilishly, only his head left in the room. "_When_ did you get that _tattoo_?"

The other shoe clattered noisily against the closed door.

Elizabeth moaned miserably and tried to resist the temptation to bang her head against the wall. The gods hated her. She'd never live this down and she knew it.

* * *

Elizabeth couldn't stop looking at the four sheets of information that she clutched in her hands, trying to keep sadness from coloring her body posture and failing miserably. No one really tried to speak with her as she boarded the plane, and for that, Elizabeth was mildly grateful. It had been hard enough trying to finish up her business with Landry. He seemed to understand though, and had expedited everything they had left to do, allowing Elizabeth ten minutes to herself before everyone else boarded the plane.

Her first order of business was to take the papers holding the contact information of the families of Captain Montega and Lts. Miller, Sean, and Beyermaltsze and put them to the side. None of them lived near the D.C. area, and Elizabeth doubted that she would be able to visit them unless she was removed from Atlantis, but looking up the information had sobered her considerably. She was ashamed to admit that she forgot, sometimes, that they had died.

Secondly, she pulled out the cell phone (How long had it been since she had used one?) that the SGC had issued her and slowly, deliberately, tapped a familiar number.

The dialing tone seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually, Elizabeth's momentary patience was rewarded.

_"Hello?"_

"Hi Mom. It's me. Elizabeth."

The response was immediate. _"Elizabeth! Is it really you? Where are you? Are you all right?"_

"I'm fine Mom, really," Elizabeth laughed, glad to hear her mother's voice. "I know it's short notice. I'm in Colorado Springs right now, but my plane for D.C. is leaving in about fifteen minutes."

Listening to her mother's jubilant (and, of course, reprimanding) exclamations, Elizabeth almost missed John, in a v-neck t-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans, waltzing cockily up the steps and into the small plane. Almost. Shooting him her best 'I'm-in-the-middle-of-an-important-phone-call-so-you'd-better-not-piss-me-off' look, Elizabeth hoped he'd leave her alone for the next five minutes. "Listen, Mom," she said seriously. "If everything goes well, I'll be home for two days before I leave again. It would mean a lot to me if you could find the time to visit for a little bit."

_"Elizabeth, don't be ridiculous. I'm booking a room at the Hilton by your apartment right now. I'm not leaving until you are."_

A slow grin illuminated Elizabeth's face. "I missed you Mom. Thanks," she admitted.

_"I've missed you more. I love you Elizabeth."_

"I love you too Mom," Elizabeth reciprocated, heart swelling a little. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she could still see the papers she had set aside, and a small shadow fell over her face as she remembered the explanation that General Landry had instructed her to give when he had given her permission to do this. "Mom… there's… something else that I think you should know."

_"Oh sweet pea, what happened? I knew something had to be wrong!"_

"Nothing's wrong Mom, really," Elizabeth sighed, feeling John's sharp eyes on her as he stood a respectful distance away. (Why was he suddenly behaving himself?) "It's just that I had an… accident, in a lab working on an experimental drug about two weeks ago and I… Well, there were some pretty unusual side effects, and I look a little different now. Not bad, just… different."

There was dead silence over the line, and Elizabeth momentarily forgot that she was angry with John and shot him a nervous look, which he returned with sympathy. Finally, her mother responded. _"I know you, sweet pea," _she said quietly, in a tone that told Elizabeth that she was distressed. _"No matter what you look like, you'll always be beautiful."_

"It's not like that Mama, trust me," Elizabeth insisted, forcing her voice to smile when her mother couldn't see her mouth do it. "If anything, I look better than I did before. You'll see."

_"All right Elizabeth."_

"I'll see you soon," Elizabeth promised. "I'll take you to Cinni's for breakfast at seven tomorrow morning, all right?"

_"All right. Goodbye, sweet pea. I love you."_

"Goodbye."

Letting out a relieved breath, Elizabeth hit the 'end' button and put the phone back into the pocket of her royal blue coat and leaned back in her seat. "You'll like my mother, John," she said idly, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees to her chest as the man walked over the few feet the little plane offered and sat across the narrow isle from her. "I know she'll definitely like _you_."

For his part, John seemed mildly surprised. "You're taking me to meet your mother?" he asked.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "We're offworld, remember? And if sticking together means you have to meet my mother, so be it. Besides," she added, a malicious smirk tugging at her mouth and repressed mirth dancing in her eyes. "you've already seen me in my underwear. The least you can do is make nice with my family."

Eyes widening, John burst out laughing so hard Elizabeth feared he might start crying. "You, Elizabeth," he chortled, "are something special."

"I try," she replied.

Their conversation was cut short as a young man opened the door from the nose of the little plane and asked if they were ready. Within twenty minutes, they were in the air, albeit John was now pouting because he had been ordered specifically by General Landry not to fly the plane, and the pilot had apparently been made aware of that fact. He had _really _wanted to fly something that, according to him, '_could pull some G's'_. Elizabeth was, admittedly, glad, because she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to experience Sheppard's joyriding.

"So 'Lizabeth, a swan, huh?" he said casually after a few minutes, leaning forwards across the isle, leaving very little space between them.

"It's a dove," Elizabeth reluctantly corrected, knowing that he was referring to the inch-across tattoo on her left hip that she now seriously regretted having done but he had, unfortunately, caught a glimpse of. "I got it when I was in college getting my degree in political science. For peace, you know? I was… _really_ drunk." The morning after had not been pretty, and she winced a little at the memory.

John just smiled at her. "Well, I think it's nice," he told her. "It suits you."

Much to her frustration, a blush crept up Elizabeth's neck and colored her cheeks. She couldn't _believe_ that the incident that morning had happened. John Sheppard, of all people, had seen her nearly naked, and was now talking casually to her about her ridiculous tattoo to boot. It made her seriously uncomfortable. Not because she wasn't comfortable with John, but because she cared. His opinion really mattered to her, even if she'd never admit it, and he had caught her by surprise in a position that was far more exposed than she had ever intended to be in, ever. John was all smiles and jokes, but Elizabeth was frightened, despite John's words. What did he think of her now?

"Elizabeth, are you all right?" John was looking at her with a concerned expression, one hand outstretched, as if he wanted to touch her but was unsure if he should.

Elizabeth gave him a watery smile. "Perfectly, John," she lied.

Clearly, John wasn't even close to believing her. Guilt washed over his youthful features as he looked at her, and he sat back a little, giving her a bit more space. "Look, Elizabeth…" he said sadly over the noise of the plane's engines, not really meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry. About earlier. I really didn't mean to upset you, or make you uncomfortable, I swear. It's just… you're my friend, 'Lizabeth, and I was just playing with you and I didn't think… I wasn't thinking about how mad you'd be, and I'm sorry for teasing you about walking in on you like that. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. "John… John I… I'm not angry with you, honest," she stammered. "I mean, I guess I really should be, but I'm not. I knew you were just teasing." Gingerly, she reached out and rested her hand on his forearm. "I'm not mad."

"Then what's wrong?" he demanded, gazing at her in that way that always prompted their silent eye-to-eye conversations.

As always, Elizabeth complied, letting their connection speak for her. She willed him to see that she was confused, and that she was scared. How much got through, however, she didn't know. But eventually, she broke it off, letting her eyes fall to the dingy rubber floor. "I'm not angry," she breathed redundantly.

"But you're frightened," John observed, taking the hand that she had left on his arm in his own and squeezing it gently.

Mute, Elizabeth nodded and shrugged helplessly.

Once again, John squeezed her hand. "'Lizabeth, look at me," he instructed, close enough to her that he didn't have to speak inordinately loudly. It took a moment, but Elizabeth eventually did as he asked, features studiously blank. "You shouldn't be afraid," he told her earnestly. "You shouldn't. You've done nothing wrong. It was my fault."

Expression still neutral, Elizabeth nodded. Of course she hadn't done anything wrong. Besides, if anyone was up for a court-marshal between the two of them, it was Sheppard. Not that it was a competition or anything.

A small frown found it's way onto John's face, but he released her hand anyways. "You okay?" he asked her.

Elizabeth shot him another weak smile. The man was incorrigible, but oddly endearing.

Grinning, John reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a deck of cards. "I know it's not solitaire but…"

"Go fish?" Elizabeth suggested, a genuine expression of joy lighting her face this time.

"You're on," John challenged in return, starting to deal the cards. They were quiet for a few moments, before he mentioned casually, "You're beautiful, you know."

"Pardon?" Elizabeth stuttered, thrown off guard again.

It was John's turn to redden, and he suddenly seemed very interested in his cards. "You're beautiful," he repeated. "I just thought you should know. Do you have any sevens?"

Warmth flooded Elizabeth from the inside out, and she beamed into her hand, which oddly enough, contained cards that were all red. "Go fish."

* * *

"Wow, even your _house_ is classy, 'Lizabeth" John observed as the car the air force had sent for them pulled up to the curb, suitably impressed.

Elizabeth glanced over at him, amused. She _was_ fond of her little apartment building. It was cute, but she'd never quite described it as _classy_. It didn't really need to be, considering how she never really spent much time on Earth anyways. "You can come in later," she promised. "Go check in at your hotel. The car should be picking us up by seven. And for the sake of all things good and holy, _please_ look presentable! This is dinner with the President we're talking about, you know," she pointed out, slipping into commander mode. "It would behoove us to make a good impression."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" John shot back, giving her a snappy salute. "You catch that, airman?" he asked the driver.

"Yes sir," the young man replied seriously.

John appeared smug as Elizabeth just rolled her eyes and dragged herself out of the back of the car, duffle slung over one shoulder and housekey in hand. "Cheeky," she reprimanded him, slamming the door back shut.

Smirking his trademarked John Sheppard smirk, he threw back a smooth, "I try." Luckily for him, the car moved fast enough that Elizabeth didn't deem it prudent to throw a shoe at him. Pity.

With a sigh, she turned and stepped into the building. Elizabeth didn't encounter many people on the way to her apartment, and the few she did didn't seem the least bit concerned with her presence, so she made it all the way up to her door unmolested. Elizabeth inhaled deeply as she entered, remembering the smell of the fabric softener she used when she was on Earth. It was very different from the smell of anything that passed through Atlantis' laundry, but very pleasant, even if it reminded her of that dark time in her life when the Ancients had returned and kicked her and her team out of Atlantis.

Dumping her bag on one end of the couch, Elizabeth made a quick sweep of the room, rearranging pillows, refolding blankets, swiping dust off of flat surfaces, and throwing open windows to dispel the smell of disuse. It didn't take her long to do the same with the other areas of the apartment, and within forty five minutes, Elizabeth was satisfied with the relative cleanliness of her environment. Everything could have used a good scrubbing, in her opinion, but she really didn't have time for that now.

The biggest problem on her plate at the moment was what she was going to wear. Currently, she was dressed in plain jeans and a white top, complemented by the heeled boots and royal blue coat she had left discarded by the door, and she was not going to be caught dead eating dinner with Henry Hayes in something so casual. Eagerly, Elizabeth chased down her closet and stepped in, eyeing the rather dusty racks of clothing with a critical eye, no longer familiar with what was where. Eventually, she settled on a tasteful black cocktail dress, and was just in the process of stepping into it when there was a loud, insistent knock on her door. Panic seized her for a moment before her eyes found the analog clock on her bedside table and she frowned. There was a good forty minutes to go until the car was supposed to pick her up.

_Knock-knock-knock-knock! _It sounded a bit frantic this time, and Elizabeth rushed to the door, not bothering to zip the back of the dress. The sight that greeted her as she opened the door, however, chased everything else out of her mind.

It was John (no surprises there). Yet he wasn't dressed presentably for their dinner, and his duffel was on the floor by his feet. But that wasn't the half of it. He was back in his jeans and t-shirt, except that _this_ time, he was barefoot, one leg of his pants was soaking wet, his shirt was on backwards _and_ inside-out, his face was the quintessence of the word 'panic', and his hair was bright flaming red. Elizabeth had to do a double take to absorb it all.

"Good god John, _what_ happened to _you_?" she gasped, horrified.

"_McKay_ happened to my shampoo bottle, that's what!" he growled, jabbing a finger at his crimson hair, which, as usual, was sticking up every which way. He gave her a pleading look. "_Please_ tell me that you have some uncontaminated shampoo in here. The cheap junk the hotel puts in those tiny bottles wasn't working to get this stuff out, and we only have about thirty minutes until we're having dinner with the _President of the United States_!"

If John had intended to give her an embolism, he had just succeeded. "Get in here, now," she ordered, and John smiled gratefully, doing as she had instructed and following her as she rushed to her bathroom. "All right," she said frantically, throwing aside her shower curtain and trying to keep her dress on in the process. "Stick your head in there and try to rinse some of it out and I'll get the shampoo from my bag."

Swearing most unprofessionally, Elizabeth left John and tore into her bedroom, dropping the dress to the floor and pulling on a t-shirt that she wouldn't mind getting wet before snagging her bag of toiletries from her open duffel and rushing back. Dutifully, John had already placed his head into the stream from the bathtub, kneeling on the floor.

"If this doesn't work and we get fired, I will commandeer the Apollo, fly to Pegasus, and strangle Rodney myself," Elizabeth hissed darkly, squirting a generous amount of strawberry-smelling soap into her hands and crawling into the bathtub to get a better angle at Sheppard's head, water pooling around her bare feet.

"Ah, well… I… _might_ have not told him about that whole President thing, and I _might_ have replaced all of his Star Wars boxers with ones that had little lemons printed all over them last week…" John coughed awkwardly, still face-down in the stream of water. He winced a little as Elizabeth's scrubbing started to include fingernails and she began a low monotone of swearing.

"If they don't fire you, I will," she told him angrily.

John (very wisely) remained silent.

Neither of them said anything more for almost ten minutes, until Elizabeth, finally seeing streams of red begin to run through her fingers after the third application of her shampoo, remarked softly, "I think it's starting to come out, John."

The man seemed to almost sag in relief. "Finally. I was afraid my hair would stay red forever," he moaned, resting his chin on the side of the tub.

"The marines would have been calling you 'Colonel Hothead' for eternity," Elizabeth remarked, grinning and continuing to work her fingers through his hair.

"Not a word in front of them!" John warned, a horrified tone to his voice.

Elizabeth laughed gently. "Why John, I wouldn't dream of it," she told him innocently. At that, she turned off the water and smoothed his hair away from his eyes so he could sit up. The grey t-shirt that John had been wearing was now soaked, and there was a sizable puddle of water on her floor now, but his hair was thankfully back to normal as the last of Rodney's prank slid down her drain like a gruesome scene from a bad horror movie. "Here," she told him, carefully stepping out of the tub and pulling a towel out from underneath the sink and tossing it to him. "Dry yourself off. Did you bring your clothes with you?"

"Yeah, they're by your front door," he responded from underneath it.

"All right. You can change out there if you'd like," she told him, grabbing a towel for herself and running it over her hands and feet, suddenly very aware that, yet again, she really wasn't wearing the appropriate amount of clothing. "I left my dress in my room, and I still have to do my hair, so I'll see you in a few minutes."

"'Lizabeth?"

"Yes?" Elizabeth stopped in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at damp, disheveled John.

"Thanks, 'Lizabeth. For everything." His voice was soft.

Elizabeth gave a little half-smile in return. "You're welcome, John," she told him quietly, and swept from the room.

* * *

_Yup. I had a little bit of a field day. Like it? :)_

_PLEASE REVIEW! *falls down on knees and gives puppy face, sad little tears streaming down cheeks*_


	7. Orange Juice

_*slinks into the room slowly*_

_I am SO SORRY for the delay. Really, I am! Life happened. Therefore, extra-long chapter. It's not a particularly lighthearted chapter, but a chapter is a chapter is a chapter, right? Even if it doesn't involve red panties. (Again, sorry for being such a lousy updater!)_

_Thanks for all those great reviews. Enjoy!_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 7  
Orange Juice

* * *

Elizabeth rarely had the chance to see John so uncomfortable as when they were eating dinner with the President, so the night was an occasion. Certainly she herself wasn't _completely_ at ease, but unlike John, she was trained in diplomacy, and was somewhat in her element. Compared to the sticky diplomatic situations she'd been in before, the dinner was an absolute cakewalk, and she visibly acted as such. John, however, seemed stiff and nervous, and honestly didn't say much.

(In retrospect, that was probably a good thing.)

"Tell me Dr. Weir. Is it hard to live so far from home?" Hayes asked at one point over the salmon that was being served, sipping at his wine. (He was a diplomat by nature as well, it seemed, and had hardly batted an eye at her altered appearance. He had never met John in person before, and therefore didn't react much to him either.)

"Not at all, Mr. President," Elizabeth responded seriously. "Atlantis _is_ my home."

"It's even a bit strange, coming back to Earth," John supplied.

Hayes appeared intrigued. "There's nothing you miss?"

"My mother, and possibly strip malls," Elizabeth admitted, wrinkling her nose. "John misses 9-hole golf though," she threw in, tipping her head at the man in question.

"We only have a driving range," John explained. Hayes appeared properly horrified.

All in all, the evening went far more smoothly than Elizabeth could have hoped for. She made a point of subtly emphasizing the positive aspects of Atlantis and all they had achieved there, as well as the fact that the Atlantis expedition was a _family_. She and Hayes had always gotten along well, but even so, it was a relief to her that he responded so well to them, and even to John, with whom he seemed to share an appreciation for the 'fine sport' of golf, despite the Lt. Colonel's obvious discomfort with the entire situation. After a few hours of conversing, mostly on Elizabeth and Hayes' parts, (and with only a really very excellent specimen of crème brule providing interruption) they had managed to conclude the dinner and part ways without any major catastrophe occurring, which was a minor miracle in and of itself.

In fact, by the time the driver had dropped John off at his hotel, which was only about a block and a half away from Elizabeth's apartment building, Elizabeth felt that there was at least a 50/50 chance now that one or the other of them might actually get to keep their job. It wasn't a victory, but it was close enough. She would take what she could get, because in between the serious ass-kickings she received on all sides from the Wraith, Replicators, and God-knows-what-else, Elizabeth wouldn't turn up her nose on actual progress, ever. Especially following the unfortunate incident with John's artificially vermillion hair.

And that, she mused as she crawled into her pajamas, was a life lesson she could take to the bank.

* * *

Elizabeth shivered slightly beneath her white button-down coat as she treaded lightly down the sidewalk, tugging her little red knit hat down around her ears. It had snowed a little bit the night before, which she had observed in between fitful bouts of sleep, and now everything in sight was lightly dusted with an all-consuming pallor that was quickly turning into slush under the glare of the morning sun. It soaked into the hem of her jeans, causing them to cling to her ankles most unpleasantly, and the slick sidewalk made her glad for the firm rubber treads of her boots. She wasn't used to cold, having experienced only the temperance of Atlantis' artificial climate for… a while. It was refreshing, in a masochistic sort of way, seeing as she was completely miserable, but Elizabeth simply gritted her teeth and sped up a little until the front of the hotel John (and, incidentally, her mother) was staying at peeked out from the next corner.

True to her word, Elizabeth darted, shivering slightly, into the heat of the outdated lobby at exactly 7:00 a.m. in a rush of cold air. Much to her surprise, John was on time as well, standing in the far end of the lobby. Even more surprising, he appeared to be deep in conversation with none other than Elizabeth's mother.

So help her God, if that man said _one word_ about that dove tattoo to her mother, she would feed him to the Wraith herself, already nicely trussed-up and basted in something scalding hot and preferably abrasive.

"Mom!" she called out cheerfully, putting a little hop into her step and waving the catch the woman's attention. Logic told her that maybe if she interrupted their conversation sooner rather than later, she could prevent any embarrassing stories being told by either party; but she couldn't really lie to herself. They'd get told anyways.

Hearing her voice, her mother whipped around immediately, and her twinkling eyes widened at the sight of her. "Elizabeth, is that really you?" she gasped, her tone caught halfway between laughter and tears.

"I'm real if you are," Elizabeth promised with a wry, surreptitious grin at John, who had immediately stood off to the side. She then pulled the woman up into a tight embrace, closing her eyes with the familiarity and comfort of the sensation. She'd really, really missed her mother. Sure, she was a grown woman with incredible responsibilities, but that didn't make missing her any easier. Not to mention that the last time she'd seen her, she hadn't _actually_ seen her. It was nice to know that this was (probably) real.

"Sweet pea, just _look _at you! When you said 'lab accident', I didn't imagine this at all!" Elizabeth's mother exclaimed, pulling back slightly and reaching up to pull of Elizabeth's stocking cap, letting her dark hair fly loose and regarding her for a moment with a growing smile. "You look happy. I had missed seeing you this happy," she told her fondly.

Elizabeth smiled and held the woman's soft hand tenderly to her cheek. "See? What did I tell you? Besides, I'll always be happy to see you, Mom," she insisted. "I missed you. And I see you've even met Colonel Sheppard," she added lightly, taking her hat back and pulling it firmly back in place.

The older woman turned with surprise and appraised John with seemingly new eyes. "I hadn't caught his name. So… _this _is the John you've told me so much about? I thought he was older," she observed with eyebrows raised skeptically. It was an expression identical to one that Elizabeth had once worn often, before she realized the futility of skepticism.

John just flashed her the crooked flyboy grin that had disarmed many a specimen of female in his time as a response. "Lt. Colonel John Sheppard at your service, ma'am." The hand he stuck out for her mother to shake was strong and steady. "Thirty-seven years old. I moisturize."

It was hard for Elizabeth to swallow the laughter that bubbled into her throat at that last comment, and she emitted a strange strangled sound instead. "He only _wishes_ he aged that gracefully, mother," she protested, rolling her eyes. "He was in the same lab accident as I was. Although, to be fair, his hair always has and, I think, always will, defy gravity."

Her mother just nodded slowly, eyes slightly wider than they had been before, while John just shot Elizabeth a look. "It's… good to finally meet you, Colonel Sheppard. You may call me Katherine," she said politely, finally taking his offered hand and shaking it.

"Yes ma'am. And you may call me John," he returned, smiling again. "It's wonderful to finally meet the woman who is responsible for shaping the great and powerful Elizabeth Weir."

At last, Katherine let her amusement show, and her pool-deep eyes crinkled along the smile-lines as her expression softened. "Great and powerful? Elizabeth, what on _Earth_ have you been doing to get a military man to say _that_?" she teased.

"Incredible things, Mrs. Weir. Incredible things," John answered, before Elizabeth could say anything, suddenly quite solemn. Her mother nodded in response, as if she had expected nothing less, and Elizabeth could see that the two had already reached an understanding, just as she had predicted they might. It was relieving, if a bit unsettling and awkward on her part.

"I believe you promised me breakfast, dear?" Her mother prompted then, her warm features once again filling Elizabeth's chest cavity with sudden warmth.

"You bet!" she responded with alacrity. She wasn't sure if John could have possibly looked happier at any other set of words.

* * *

After living so long off of the cooking of the mess hall, Elizabeth had almost forgotten just how good Earth food could be when she had gone to dinner with the President. She had been pleasantly surprised then, but there was a lot to be said for comfort food as well, especially in the morning. For the first time in who knows how long, she didn't have an aversion to eating so strong that John had to pester her to do so, and she was actually quite eager for her food to arrive. What could she say? Breakfast was the time for crepes, and she wasn't the one to deny the will of the breakfast gods. She ate with unwonted gusto.

The conversation was fabulous as well, of course. Elizabeth had a lot of catching up to do with her mother, and John was getting along with the both of them incredibly well. Six months ago, if someone had told her that she would be sitting down with her mother and John Sheppard at her favorite breakfast café in Washington, discussing the time that she had, as a toddler, grown hysterical because she accidentally crushed a butterfly, all the while the pair of them looking as if she were twenty… well, she probably would have fed them to Steve, depending on her mood. (Well, probably not. Ethical issues and all. But then again, she would have been more than a little bemused.) It was astonishing to her how one mission could have changed so much, so quickly. As heinously guilty as it made her to admit it, decrying as she did the gruesome facts of her men's deaths, she was almost… happy, with the way things had turned out otherwise. Certainly, she was in danger of losing her post in Atlantis and had had her body altered against her will but… she was with her mother again. And, oddly enough, she was with John, who was unquestionably her best friend. He had been ever since they had been thrown in this boat together, although probably for much longer, if Elizabeth was being entirely honest with herself.

"Hey 'Lizabeth, I'm going to make a run to the Starbucks next door. I gotta say I missed it. Want me to bring you something?" John asked suddenly, startling Elizabeth out of her musings.

"Oh John, would you?" Elizabeth gasped, brightening considerably.

"Anything to pander to that caffeine addiction of yours," laughed John. "Would you like anything, Katherine?" he asked politely, turning towards Elizabeth's mother, who was dabbing at her prim mouth with her napkin.

"No thank you dear," the woman replied sweetly, turning her sparkling eyes to her daughter as he left, weaving through the homey little tables, disappearing from view as Elizabeth fondly watched him go.

For a short while, a relative silence enveloped the table and Elizabeth continued to happily tuck in to her crepes, which she hadn't been able to consume at the incredible rate that John had, but she had attacked respectably nonetheless. She had just started sipping at her little glass of orange juice when her mother decided to ask the question out of the blue. "So, can I be expecting any grandchildren anytime soon?"

Elizabeth spewed orange juice across the table.

"Wha-what? I… _what_?" she spluttered fecklessly, cringing at the harsh acidity of the juice as she did her utmost to mop up the mess.

"Well, unlike you, I'm not getting any younger," her mother pointed out dryly, smirking a little at her reaction and reaching for a few napkins to help her.

"_Mom!_ I don't have… I'm not even… _Mom_!" Elizabeth choked out in protest, still distraught and flustered by a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and shame. "Why would you even… Do I _look _pregnant?"

Now that she thought about it, maybe eating all those crepes _hadn't _been such a good idea.

"No, _goodness_ no! I just wanted to know if it was in your plans, sweet pea," her mother reassured her quickly, appearing faintly horrified (although somewhat amused) at the way her words had been interpreted. "Relax. Let me dream."

Reluctantly, Elizabeth made a valiant attempt to do so. "I… hadn't really… thought about it…" she stammered delicately, supremely uncomfortable, cheeks burning. "I… I don't even have a boyfriend, Mom."

Elizabeth's mother seemed a little confused for a moment, before she blinked the expression away to be replaced by one of dawning understanding. "Let's be honest sweet pea, that won't last long," she remarked with a little smile.

Frowning slightly, Elizabeth was about to ask what she meant when John strode back into the room and carefully placed a paper cup at her side. "Extra black with creamer but no sugar," he informed her. "I didn't know if you wanted something besides your usual."

"It's perfect John, thank you," she said gratefully, burying her head in it before he could notice her stiffness or burning cheeks.

If he did, he didn't say anything. After they had finished their breakfast, John had informed her that he needed to run some errands that day before they were to leave the next morning, but it was possible that he would be free again in the evening once he was done, if she wasn't sick of him by now. Elizabeth's mother had jumped right in at that point, saying that of _course_ Elizabeth wasn't sick of him, and that she and Elizabeth would be back at Elizabeth's apartment after dinner, so he should most certainly come right on over. Elizabeth, of course, didn't mind in the least, just as her mother had said she didn't, but now knowing her mother's opinion about grandchildren, she didn't feel like doing much at all around the male species at the moment, besides crawling into a hole. Still, she found herself smiling happily at him and telling him to come over whenever he liked and to make sure to remember to pick up some popcorn for Teyla. He had smiled at her and left, as she and her mother did the same. Mother and daughter ended up spending the day shopping for clothes and makeup and other necessities that were hard to come by in Atlantis.

Introspectively, she honestly didn't know what had gotten into her. Elizabeth had never been a glutton for punishment before she had met John. Of course, she had never met anyone quite like him. A strange mix between a hard military man, a flyboy, a twelve-year old, and a man full of wisdom and pain beyond his years. Elizabeth supposed that she respected him, mostly. Most especially for all of the pain he carried with him, and tried to hide with his bravado. The sarcasm, the incessant snarky outlook on life, the act of what Rodney called the 'Captain Kirk': it was all designed to shield him from more pain, and bury what pain he already bore deep within him. If nothing else, it was something Elizabeth understood. She didn't pity him—he didn't want or need her pity—but respected the fact that they were the same in many ways: keeping all of their friendships just far enough away from romance to keep their hearts safe after being hurt, but taking those same few friendships and pouring all of the passion in the world into them. For what were they without the ability to change the lives of others for the better?

Both he and Elizabeth lived their lives for this purpose. She supposed it was one of the many reasons that they were such good friends, and had become so almost without realizing it.

"Elizabeth, dear, would you prefer the blue, red, or green in this pattern?"

Elizabeth smiled at her mother's voice, still lost in thought. "Red."

* * *

A timid knock sent a startled Elizabeth nearly flying off the seat of the couch as it woke her from the near half-sleep that she had been lulled into, watching _Singin' in the Rain_ with her mother. It was her favorite childhood movie; one that the two of them always watched together, but Elizabeth could never truly stay awake for if she was feeling sleepy. Seeing as how it was past eight and Elizabeth hadn't had any coffee for hours after exhausting herself with the day's activities, she was indeed feeling incredibly tired. However, the announcement of a visitor, as gentle as it was, proved enough to startle her into alertness.

"I thought John said when he called earlier that he couldn't come. Something about needing to visit a friend in the hospital?" Her mother commented from the armchair she had settled herself in.

"Yes, I thought he did too," Elizabeth agreed with a yawn, getting to her feet and straightening her pajama pants before padding to the door. A quick glance through the peephole showed her that it was indeed John who was standing outside of her apartment. "But it's him all right."

"Hey Elizabeth, I'm sorry to bother you so late," John said quickly, once Elizabeth had opened the door for him. He looked a little pale, in her opinion, and the hand that he raised to run through his hair like he always did when he was nervous was more shaky and halting than was usual. "Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?" The normal playful tone of the voice he used with her was gone.

Elizabeth nodded seriously, latching onto his mood and recognizing the tone of his voice as a cue that he needed to speak about something that was probably classified. "Of course, John. In here." She beckoned him inside and closed the door behind him. Padding over to her mother, she leaned down and placed a kiss to her curly temple. "We need to talk where you can't hear us, Mother. But we'll only be a moment, I promise," she told her.

Receiving Katherine's nod of understanding, Elizabeth turned up the volume of the musical and slipped into her bedroom, which was the only other room in her apartment with a door that wasn't the bathroom, John trailing behind. Neither of them spoke until she pressed the door closed behind them.

"Do you know James McKendricks? From genetics?"

"Yes. He's our foremost expert on studying the evolution of ascension. A nice man as well, though I haven't personally spent much time with him. Why?" Elizabeth asked.

"Did you know he has a wife, here on Earth?"

"No, but it's not unusual among the expedition," Elizabeth defended, frowning.

John's frown deepened. "Her name is Lorena Jewel McKendricks. Maiden name Cassidy. She and I..." He hesitated. "Well, we dated in college. It didn't work out, but we're still close friends. James too," he explained. "Though I've never found much time for him in Atlantis. What I _didn't_ know though, I suppose that was because neither of them told me, was that she's pregnant with a baby McKendricks."

A slow smile spread across Elizabeth's face. "Why John, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I'll be sure to authorize weekly visits for James to Earth as soon as the midway station is operational!"

Looking at her with an unfathomable mixture of happy and sad, John shook his head. "Oh 'Lizabeth. You don't understand. I said that she and I are friends, right?"

"Ri-ight," she replied, making the word two syllables in emphasis of her confusion.

"Lorena was the friend I was visiting in the hospital this afternoon, 'Lizabeth," John said, even more softly. "Her car was hit head-on by another truck. The guy just passed out at the wheel and drifted right across the median."

"Oh my god…" Elizabeth breathed, her vibrant green eyes widening and stinging. "Is… is she all right?"

"No. No, she's not all right. She died two hours after I got there."

Stone slowly settled over Elizabeth's features. There it was again. She was going to have to be the one to tell somebody that someone they loved was dead. What was worse, this wasn't sending a letter or video to the family of someone who died bravely in her service, sacrificing themselves for the greater good. This was telling one of _her_ people that a member of _their_ family was killed not fighting for a good cause, but as an innocent victim. It wasn't fair to anyone in her expedition, who all sacrificed so much daily, that this should happen. It just wasn't, because they, of all people, didn't deserve it. She paced frustratedly.

John's voice broke the quiet that had settled over the pair of them as he sidled a little closer. "But… her child survived. A little girl. And Lorena… Lorena was conscious just long enough to speak with me. She said that I was the girl's godfather, and that she and James had already chosen a name for her, months ago. Elizabeth Maya McKendricks. Apparently, James had told her that his job was very dangerous, but that he owed his life, and the others all owed their lives as well, to one Dr. Elizabeth Weir. They decided that they wanted their girl to be Elizabeth as well."

A hand was pressed tightly to Elizabeth's mouth at this point, and moisture was beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes. Dr. James McKendricks was, to be honest, just another member of her expedition. She hadn't had any more or any less contact with him than she had with any number of those on Atlantis and yet… here she was, being told by John that this man had named his little girl after _her_. Had the tragedy of Lorena McKendricks' death not occurred, would she even have ever known about little Elizabeth's name? How much she meant as a leader to a man she was barely on a first name basis with? It was seriously touching, and Elizabeth couldn't decide whether she felt like smiling or crying.

Apparently, her traitorous body felt more like crying.

Hot tracks of moisture spilled from her eyes against her will, caught up in the raw _sadness_ of the situation. Her vision was therefore somewhat blurred, but Elizabeth's eyes didn't waver from John's face, and even she could see that he was struggling with losing his friend. More tentatively than she thought the situation called for, Elizabeth stepped forwards, suddenly filled with an inexplicable fear that John would push her away. He rarely let anyone see him struggle with emotion, and Elizabeth was afraid that she didn't mean enough to him to let her see him do so, boss or no.

As it turned out, this fear wasn't completely unfounded. As Elizabeth laid a cool hand on John's cheek, he let out an almost completely inaudible hiss and tried to face away from her. But Elizabeth would have none of it. "John… look at me John," she instructed in a gentle voice, slightly muted with the choking of the tears, running the hand from his face down to his stiff shoulder. A sort of calm was filling her. "I understand John. You don't have to hide."

John was motionless for the span of several heartbeats, but when he moved, he moved so quick that he elicited a squeak of surprise out of her. The snap from refusal to even make eye contact and scooping her up in a bear hug so tight she was lifted off her feet and she could barely move was startling, to say the least, but Elizabeth didn't struggle against it. John didn't move either. He just… held her. One arm trapped awkwardly between her stomach and John's chest, Elizabeth was fairly uncomfortable, but didn't dare try to break away. If this was what John needed, she was more than happy to provide it, and allowed herself to relax somewhat into his embrace. She even found it to be somewhat enjoyable.

After what seemed a short eternity, John released her, and Elizabeth found her feet again. "I… Sorry, Dr. Weir," John muttered sheepishly.

"Don't be, Colonel Sheppard," Elizabeth replied smoothly. "I needed that anyways." In a gentler voice, she asked, "Will you be all right?"

John nodded quickly. "I just… Can I have a minute?"

"Sure, John," Elizabeth replied without hesitation, filled with a strange sense of déjà vu that she simply resigned herself to. "Come out when you're ready."

With that, the woman crept back into the living room, where her mother was still faithfully focused on the actors that were singing and tap-dancing across Elizabeth's flatscreen and settled down onto the couch without a word. Her mother shot her a concerned glance, but Elizabeth returned with a sad smile and a shake of her head, pointedly returning her attention to the movie and hoping that she wouldn't comment on the redness surrounding her eyes and nose. Her mother didn't need to be burdened with John's grief and her sadness.

It was fifteen minutes before John finally emerged from Elizabeth's bedroom, expression carved from marble. It was a side of John that Elizabeth had seen before, albeit it less severe this time, but she disliked it just as much as she always had. She knew that he would leave as soon as he told her goodbye, but she didn't want that. It might have been inappropriate, but she didn't care. She didn't want John to leave. She didn't. Some deep part of her—feminine intuition perhaps—sensed that while he _was_ aching and in pain, she was capable of soothing it. She _wanted_ to help him, and if she was right, it wouldn't take much to do it.

"John, come here," she whispered, gesturing for him to come over and trying to keep the interaction discreet. She knew her mother could hear her, but she had found over the years that sometimes, it was best to pretend that people who could hear you couldn't. It made almost any situation less awkward.

"Elizabeth. I was just about to leave. I'm sorry for imposing," John apologized as he moved to her sleepy perch on the couch, carefully edging behind Katherine's armchair so as not to disturb her movie experience. (Elizabeth had to give the woman props for her ability to make herself seemingly melt into the background.)

Shaking her head, Elizabeth placed a hand on John's forearm and pulled her legs (clad in a white set of pajama pants adorned with little slices of miscellaneous citrus) up close to the rest of her body, leaving the rest of the couch bare. "Stay John. Please," she implored, searching out his darkened eyes with her own. "Just till the movie's over." Seeing her 2IC's hesitation, she tightened her grip on his arm. "Please. I… I've been having nightmares again John and I… I would appreciate it if you would stay another hour. Especially after… after McKendricks," she confessed. She hadn't intended to share this with him, but Elizabeth's gut feeling told her that John shouldn't be alone at the moment. If nothing else, Elizabeth was good at reading people: a skill that had served her well in the past and continued to do so now. She was counting on John's reflexive attitude of protectiveness towards her to enable her to protect him herself.

"About the four marines, or Kolya?" John queried after a moment, listing her usual nightly terrors: acquiescing and sitting down next to her on the couch. His voice was low enough that Elizabeth was fairly certain her mother couldn't hear, but just to be safe, she squirmed about a bit until she was more upright and leaned in closer to him.

"Me hurting our people, the Wraith, the orb, the Replicators, it's all the same after a while. And it doesn't matter really," Elizabeth sighed. A wry smile then twitched across her lips. "I'm sure you would agree, John."

"Aw, me? I'm not scared of anything, remember?" John joked with her feebly, smile not reaching his eyes but voice rising back to normal volume. It was clear that he was trying to cheer her up. "I'm the knight in shining Kevlar!"

Sensing that the lightening of John's mood wasn't entirely false, Elizabeth joined in wholeheartedly, eyes pleading him to let go of his guilt, even for a little while. "Really? Nothing?" she asked coyly. "Even big scary bugs?" she hinted with an overt gesture to her neck and the grin still slapped on her face, referencing the Iratus incident.

Eyes widening in mock hurt, John retorted, "Well, if we're reduced to mentioning incidents that have been agreed as things never to be mentioned again, I'd have to say that I _still_ like the freckles."

Elizabeth promptly elbowed him in the ribs for his trouble, and shushed his whining, dissolving into silent laughter as her mother looked at John, aghast, and told him that he was a brave man for mentioning such a thing. Taking it like a man, John solemnly replied that he'd be happy to lend her a bulletproof vest if she ever wanted to do so herself. Katherine had just rolled her eyes and returned to the movie, and John and Elizabeth had followed her example. Elizabeth grabbed his hand and squeezed it, just to be sure, and only when he squeezed it back was she satisfied that John felt a little better.

Of course, thirty minutes later, Elizabeth was back into her slumbering state, curled into a ball in her corner of the couch. Certainly she had a lot of catching up to do on sleep, and she was somewhat emotionally exhausted, but that movie had soothing powers that she could probably hand over to Area 51 for study!

"I haven't seen her like this in years, you know," her mother's voice curled around her ears in that ethereal way that words were warped through the filter of almost-sleep.

John's familiar tenor answered back almost immediately. "Yeah, it was pretty unsettling for the first few days. You should've seen her face when we first handed her a mirror. But she's still our Elizabeth, just with hair that's a bit more wild."

"I'm not talking about her appearance, Colonel Sheppard," her voice came again, causing Elizabeth to stir a bit before settling back into a more comfortable position with her face turned out of the arm of the couch, where it had previously been buried. "Wherever you are, and whatever you're doing; it means the world to my Elizabeth. I can see it in just the way she glows from the inside out. I can see it when she looks at _you_. She's free."

The ending credits of the movie joined Katherine's voice tickling around Elizabeth's ears, but it was long enough before John replied that Elizabeth very nearly plunged all the way into her slumber.

"She deserves to be happy," came the whisper. "And making other people happy makes _her_ happy. She does more good than you know, Mrs. Weir. For all of us."

"She doesn't do it alone. And for that, I thank you."

"Mrs. Weir, I—"

"I think I'll be leaving now, Colonel Sheppard," her mother interrupted. "I'll see you both in the morning, before you leave. Take care."

The door closed, the weight on the couch shifted as John did, the chipper tunes emanating from her television died down to nothing, and Elizabeth exhaustedly started to drift off again, fuzziness enveloping her. That is, until she felt herself being lifted into the air. Startled, she whimpered and jerked slightly, perfectly willing to spring awake.

"Hush, Elizabeth. Go back to sleep," John told her quietly.

Elizabeth wasn't about to argue. She surrendered to the welcoming arms of slumber before John even put her down, dreaming, of all things, of the taste of orange juice.

* * *

_Emotionally bipolar much? Yeah. Tell me about it. For where would the fun be without the sappy, obnoxious, and clichéd emotional drama? (Well, that, and I've been in a mood lately. I tend to take out my moods on innocent characters, generally resulting in agony or death.)_

_And on that chipper note, review if you dare! MUAHAHAHAHAH!_


	8. Regs

_Uh... I'm sorry? *sweatdrop* Really, I am. It's been forever since I updated. I've just been so _unbelievably _busy!_

_Therefore... PLOT! A bunch of stuff is set up in this chapter, because I had a lot of ideas and not enough time. I hope it's exciting, if not jumbled._

_Please, enjoy all of the angst! And thanks SO much to all of you lovlies who left a review! It means a lot. :)_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 8  
Regs

* * *

Elizabeth was dreaming. She knew that this was an undisputable fact, but the transcendental quality of her surroundings nevertheless held an inexplicable power over her, as if what she saw here was merely an extension of the world as she knew it. It was harsh, yet beautiful, to see.

The woman could see the sand that flowed infinitely beneath her bare toes and off into the indefinable horizon, and see the icy blast of the equally endless steel grey ocean not ten yards to her left, but she could not feel or hear either one, and she could not move a centimeter. Conversely, she could feel the breathy tickle of every strand of dark, curling hair brushing up against the skin of her bare shoulders. She heard a voice, as well. Distant and soft, the meaning of the words were lost to Elizabeth, but they filled her with a glowing sense of warmth and sleepy contentment, and they continued without significant pause, as if the invisible speaker would never tire of simply speaking to her, even if she couldn't understand him. It was a music that she knew her world wouldn't be the same without, even though she couldn't recall where she'd heard it previously.

Just ahead of her, in the immaculately smooth sand, someone had scratched out a spiraling, rounded pattern that captured her attention. The grainy medallion too, seemed eerily familiar, but in a different way. Elizabeth felt like she had only seen it once, but that the image held answers not even _she_ knew she was seeking as of yet.

Listening to the loving, unintelligible voice and gazing at the mesmerizing design, Elizabeth decided that all in all, it was a pleasant, if not particularly odd, dream.

But, like all dreams, it was doomed to inevitably end. The stark, bleak scenery in front of Elizabeth's serene, sensory-charged form was suddenly swallowed up in the bright sunlight streaming through her bedroom window. She was disoriented for a few heartbeats, her mind struggling to catch up to her body as she momentarily didn't recognize her beige surroundings. However, she soon realized that John had probably just carried her into her room and put her into her bed before he left. As she looked groggily around the nondescript room however, the absence of the pleasant heat and safety of the dream conspicuously absent, Elizabeth suddenly felt cold and very, very alone. A creeping sense of sadness settled over her like a wet blanket.

Scrubbing at her eyes, Elizabeth suppressed a yawn and swung her feet out of bed. Her bedside clock told her that it already well past ten in the morning. She hadn't slept so long in ages, she realized at the same instant she resigned herself to the notion that she wouldn't be getting back to sleep, now that she was already awake. Besides, she only had a couple of hours until she was to meet John back at his hotel so they could fly back to Colorado to receive the verdict, and she still had to say goodbye to her mother.

Resigned, Elizabeth shambled into her bathroom. With a brief glance into the mirror and a pained wince at her disheveled appearance (she looked like she'd been dragged through Netu and back, with that bedhead) Elizabeth splashed some water on her face, grabbed her toothbrush, and squirted some toothpaste onto the bristles. Sticking the instrument into her mouth, the woman took careful inventory of her features as she brushed, noting the prominent cheekbones, increasingly wild and curly dark hair, the smattering of the freckles she so detested, and the lack of worry-lines around her pale green eyes: familiar, but out of place. It was haunting, really, to look at herself and see a woman she hadn't been for years. She could barely wrap her head around it, and she could hardly imagine how her mother must feel, especially as Elizabeth hadn't been able to answer any of her questions about the 'accident'. For the first time in the last few days, she felt uncomfortable again: as if her mind and body hadn't quite reconciled themselves. It was a subtle sensation, but she still noticed it in quiet moments such as these.

_Skat._ The foam from Elizabeth's toothpaste hit the bowl of the sink as she bent over and spat, pulling a sip of water from a Dixie cup and rinsing, relishing the sharp bite of the mint in her mouth. In a futile attempt to whisk the wispy whorls of her hair into a semblance of professionalism (it just seemed to be growing worse by the day) the woman ran a comb through it before tightening the drawstrings on her citrus-themed pajama pants and padding through the main room of the apartment and into the kitchen, still hampered with the vestiges of her dream-filled sleep but making a mental note to try and find a new brand of shampoo.

Much to her surprise, Elizabeth discovered a series of blue post-it notes spangling the area. She suspected that they were the very same ones that she kept on the end table in her living room. Warily, the diplomat edged over to the one nearest to her, which was perched on the door of her stainless steel freezer.

"_Good morning, Sunshine," _it read in large, blocky lettering. _"Have those freckles disappeared yet? (I know you check every morning in the mirror: don't lie to me.)"_

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed at the little pastel-blue square. If John was going to insult her, (and she had no doubt it _was_ him) the least he could do would be to buy his own stickies! Warily, she moved to the next closest one, following the little arrow drawn on to the bottom of the first note. Still left in a questionable mood, she could only hope it was less annoying than the first.

_"So, your mom says that you never used to snore. But man, do you sure snore now! She's good though. Kept a straight face all the way until we left. Didn't want to wake you and interrupt the symphony coming from your room."_

The writing on this one started out big, and then tapered smaller and smaller as John labored to squeeze his words into the limited space. However, regardless of this rather amusingly juvenile detail, Elizabeth was still going to kill him. She did _not_ snore! _Especially _not loud enough to be heard through a bedroom door! Did she? A moment of doubt seized her, and Elizabeth cursed both John Sheppard and the man who invented post-its.

_"She wanted to bring you breakfast. It's in the fridge, because she didn't want to wake you. Can you believe she woke me up at 7, knocking on my door? Grabbed my cell phone by accident when she left last night. Not worth waking up to have it back," _he griped. The fact that he'd had to be awake so much earlier did admittedly make Elizabeth feel a little better. Most of those good feelings evaporated, however, when she pulled the plate her mother had left her out of the fridge and realized that her blueberry scone had a bite taken out of one side. She scowled.

_"Passed the test: not poisoned. You can eat in peace of mind now,"_ the blue note proudly pronounced.

Groaning out loud, Elizabeth decided that she was hungry enough to still eat it and squeezed herself into the space at the little café table in the far corner of the room where she ate when she was alone, eyeing the note there with an expression bordering on leery and nibbling at her incomplete little scone. In the end, she just bucked up and read it.

_"All right, that was a bastard move. Sorry," _came the admission. _"And also sorry for tagging along with your mom in your house while you're sleeping. I feel just as creepy as I am. But I thought you'd be up by now, and I wanted to thank you."_

Unable to tamp down her curiosity, Elizabeth just took the scone with her as she followed to where another sloppy arrow directed her, which happened to be the coffee maker. The pot was already full of the stuff, which was thankfully still warm. Happily, she grabbed a mug and poured herself a glass, feeling considerably more goodwill towards her friend. _"I was having a rough time yesterday, and you helped. A lot. So, thanks. I liked the movie too, although you could use a little more 'Make 'em Laugh' most days, Liz."_

Another stickie had been perched jauntily on her mug. _"Just think: you could lead the entire city in the most racially diverse and exotically set musical ever made. Ronon could be your co-star."_

Knowing that John knew her, Elizabeth knew that he would know that she knew where the next note would be, because she knew there was one. As it turned out, she was right. It was stuck on the back of the creamer she kept in the door of her fridge. She only liked creamer with the more expensive imported ground coffee, which judging from the aroma wafting from her cup, was exactly what John had swiped from her cabinet and put into the coffee maker.

Grinning openly now, Elizabeth turned her eyes to the familiar handwriting. _"Yeah, I used the good stuff. It's my reward to you. Great choice, by the way. Classy. It tastes magical. Katherine made me promise to buy more for you when she saw me drinking it, though. Check your top left cupboard."_

Pouring a dash of the creamer into the coffee, Elizabeth did so. It was a cabinet that she didn't use, seeing as how she only kept the bare essentials stocked in her apartment. John had placed two post-its on the bottom. The first was simple. _"IOU, 1 coffee + 1/8 of a blueberry scone. ~John"_ it said.

Well, so he did! She would hold him to that, Elizabeth decided, folding the blue note in half and carefully tucking it away into her wallet, which she had left out on the table. The other message wasn't much longer. _"Thanks for everything, Elizabeth. I owe you."_

Elizabeth knew he meant it. She also felt more touched that she probably should have. 'Touched' being the operative word in this situation, because she really couldn't find another word that could even approach quantifying the sensation of simultaneous giddiness, wariness, and peace, which as the thought occurred to her, made her snort with derision. What was she, sixteen? She only had an excuse for acting twenty three, and no excuse whatsoever for letting a juvenile post-it note attack make her feel so happy.

Just as swiftly as the surge of joy had come, it left, replaced by a flare of anger. This foolishness had gone on long enough. She had been idiotic to let it continue, and worse yet, encourage it. Just because she allowed herself to fall prey to John's—no, Colonel Sheppard's—puppy eyes and enjoyed his company… it was no excuse for allowing herself, the leader of the expedition, to develop such a close… friendship with him. All right, it was _probably _a bit more than that, if she were being honest with herself. But it was also the equivalent of throwing away everything she had worked so hard to build for some post-it-notes and a half-eaten blueberry scone. And that was unacceptable.

Frustrated, Elizabeth abruptly slammed the heel of her palm forcefully against the counter and leaned into it heavily, breakfast forgotten. Who was she kidding? She and John had always shared a close, not-quite-platonic relationship, as soon as they had learned to work with each other. She drove him to be better, and he helped her see life differently. It worked, and she had never questioned it. At least, not until M51-237. That one mission had changed everything; it had set them on this road to nowhere, and Elizabeth knew very well that not only could they never turn back to what they once were, but that they could never continue on to anything more. Words could not describe Elizabeth's loathing of being trapped where they were, and her chest felt like a giant had was squeezing her heart and lungs tightly enough to make her short of breath.

Pounding on the counter again sent a sharp splinter of pain lancing up her arm, and this cleared Elizabeth's head enough for her to belatedly realize that she was crying. This, thankfully, snapped her out of her unstable state, and she straightened up and smoothed out her hair, even though no one was watching. Her features immediately snapped back into the stony preset she maintained during almost every professional situation. Yes, she was, as John might put it, screwed. However, she had a job to do. And if her name wasn't Elizabeth Weir, she was going to do it, and do it well, inappropriate personal feelings for one Colonel Sheppard be damned.

* * *

Her episode had set the tone for a very, very bad day. Having to say goodbye to her mother didn't help in the slightest, and Elizabeth was noticeably snappish for the next hour or so of travel in the chauffeured SUV and even after boarding the military transport plane. After a few attempts at conversation were quickly shot down, John gave up trying to speak with her and retreated into silence, accepting the fact that she obviously wasn't in the mood for talking while Elizabeth simply leaned her head back and went to sleep for the remainder of the flight. He had tried to ask her why her hand was bruising, but she hadn't answered, and it was throbbing now. Thankfully, not enough to disturb her sleep.

She didn't wake up until, hours later, the plane jolted onto the runway in Colorado Springs, jostling her. A crash to her left and a little ahead of her, accompanied by some creative expletives, told her that John had gone to sleep as well, but hadn't been lucky enough to stay in his seat.

A giggle escaped her, despite her efforts to repress it, and Elizabeth felt some tension in her shoulders ease. It was all right, she decided, if she still stayed friends with the Colonel. She had been acting as if she were afraid of him all day, and that was no way for a grown woman to behave. Elizabeth might mourn the loss of the relationship that could never be, but that didn't mean that she didn't have something wonderful right here, she realized. John Sheppard was her best friend. That had to count for something.

"Hey John?" she called out to him, where he was still swearing under his breath. "I won't tell Rodney about this as long as you don't tell him about that horrid hat my mother tried to buy me."

"You've got a deal."

* * *

"I'm sorry, not _only_ are you telling me I've still got a job, but you're telling me that Kate Heightmeyer convinced you to have do with the _regs_?" Elizabeth repeated incredulously, hands tightening over the edge of the conference table as she looked from the representatives of the IOA to the Generals Landry and O'Neill with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Looking as if he had just sucked on something sour, one of the representatives, Mr. Kenneth, shook his head. "Not exactly, Dr. Weir," he drawled, as if to a child. "You see, Dr. Heightmeyer merely… brought it to our attention… that the working environment is far different on Atlantis that it is on any other of our existing military outposts. From a psychological viewpoint, she likened it more to a… to a colony, than a base, and expressed her concerns for how long the human psyche could handle such an environment without reprieve."

"Basically, you're a whole city full of Carters and have no lives," General O'Neill threw in from the back, causing the corner of Elizabeth's mouth to twitch upward with amusement.

Glaring at the man, Mr. Kenneth paused pointedly before continuing. "It is the professional opinion of Dr. Heightmeyer, as well as other experts she has shared her observations with, that the stress of such a working environment constantly overflowing into what little personal life is permitted is a great detriment to the expedition. She believes that the quality of life of all aboard could be greatly improved by—"

"—a Lantean colony, of a sort." Jack interrupted again. "Give residents of Atlantis rights as _citizens_ of Atlantis. Loosen up on the military regs on personal relationships. Allow more families to be brought over from Earth, if they so choose. You know, make it homier. The good doctor pointed out that the lack thereof was detrimental to mental and physical heath, and that if the IOA didn't take action to protect its people, the whole expedition would suffer."

If Elizabeth hadn't been trained in diplomacy, she was pretty sure her jaw would have hit the table. As it was, she felt she still appeared pretty startled. She hadn't known what she had been sending Kate back to Earth to do. If she had, maybe Elizabeth would have cautioned the woman against it; taking on the IOA had to have taken immense bravery. But, if Elizabeth knew one thing about Kate Heightmeyer, it was that when it came to the wellbeing of her patients, she would do anything. And the wellbeing of the Atlantis expedition, which did so much for Earth, was a big chip to have on one's shoulder.

Even so, Elizabeth had just never considered that something like this could be possible.

"Thank you," she managed to say sincerely to her small audience, folding her hands in her lap. "This will make the lives of everyone, especially the senior staff and our military members, immeasurably better. I assume you will be sending me back with a more detailed file on the finer points of the new protocol?"

One of the women on the IOA's panel nodded curtly, appearing none too happy. Elizabeth had to wonder what exactly Kate had said to these people to make them go so quietly. Though, she wasn't sure if she really wanted to know.

General Landry spoke next, glancing anxiously at his watch and gesturing to the unopened file beneath Elizabeth's first. "My apologies, Dr. Weir, but we don't have much time. Colonel Sheppard should be joining us momentarily for this next portion of the briefing."

Acquiescing without complaint, Elizabeth brought the second file to the top of her stack and settled down in the silence that followed to wait for the not-so-punctual Sheppard. Frowning, she idly doodled on a bit of scrap paper at her side: something she was not usually prone to do. The first bit of news she had received was so fantastic, only the second revelation had been capable of eclipsing it. She and John were fine… medically speaking. They had been reinstated in Atlantis without issue. And now, she could deliver the tidings to her people in person that they weren't just a military outpost any more. They were a family.

A happy thought passed through the forefront of her mind like a scrap of flotsam on a sea swell. Perhaps Dr. McKendricks would be able to have his new daughter, little Elizabeth, live with him in the city, if he so wished.

However, this fleeting moment of optimism was overshadowed by her sudden certainty that her quota of good news was exhausted for the day, and that bad news was sure to await her in the unopened file.

John burst into the room in a flurry of false composure and embarrassment before snapping into a salute before the generals. "Sorry, sirs. I was in the infirmary, sirs."

"At ease," O'Neill sighed, taking a seat at Hank's side while John did the same at Elizabeth's. "Did Walter get that file to you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We can begin."

Upon opening the envelope, Elizabeth could barely abstain from rolling her eyes. She had been entirely correct in her prediction of bad news, (admittedly a concept hijacked from Murphy's Law, but she wasn't about to get technical). Glaring at her from the first page were photos taken from space of a massive Asuran Replicator shipyard, presumably preparing an armada to attack Earth.

Joy.

Elizabeth realized she had tuned out of the conversation only when she tuned back in.

"… and it has been decided upon by both the U.S. Military and the IOA that the best course of action to take in this situation would be to fire nuclear weapons from the new warship _Apollo_ from space to neutralize the threat," Mr. Kenneth was explaining. "Since you were already here at the SGC, it was deemed prudent to inform you of our plans in advance."

John and Elizabeth shared a look. "Absolutely not," he protested at the same time as Elizabeth responded, "That is a very bad idea."

Everyone in the room, including General O'Neill, turned to them in shock. The dull grey of the concrete in the briefing room seemed to reverberate with the sudden quiet. But incidentally, the man was the first to recover. "Care to explain?" he requested, one silver eyebrow raised slightly.

Elizabeth jumped right in. "The Asurans are, obviously, very, very dangerous. The last time they attempted to destroy Atlantis, they nearly succeeded. And this time, they know exactly where to find us to exact retribution," she explained, concerned that those assembled before her could be missing something so obvious. "Nuclear bombs will _never_ destroy them. They'll slow them down, certainly, but not enough for the city to be saved."

"Some say that the best defense is a good offence," General Landry pointed out from his seat. "What makes you so sure the replicators are so powerful? That they'll even have the ability to strike back?"

Leveling his cool grey eyes with Landry's, John reminded him, "First-hand experience sitting over here, remember? Besides, even the Ancients couldn't destroy them all. What makes you think our nukes can?"

The discomfort in the room was tangible. Finally, an IOA representative, whose name, Elizabeth recalled, was Mr. Hatloe, spoke softly, "But I have yet to see you offer a viable alternative. Either we strike now, while we can, or the Replicators attack Earth. What choice do we have?" he demanded.

Deep in frantic thought, Elizabeth lowered her eyes, determined to prove him wrong. But every solution she could think of was either impossible, took too long, or put either Earth or the City in danger. She was aware that John was still arguing with the others at the table, but thinking out loud had never been her way, and she continued to quietly contemplate the puzzle laid out before her. She _knew_ that there had to be another, more elegant, solution. Glancing down at the scrap paper she had doodled on, Elizabeth suddenly realized that she already had her answer.

Giddy with anticipation and terrified that the solution would slip her mind again, Elizabeth stood and strode purposefully over to the whiteboard wheeled into one corner, pulling it closer to the table.

Obviously recognizing the expression on Elizabeth's face, John stood as well. "Elizabeth?" he asked gently.

Elizabeth couldn't find it within herself to deny him. Snatching the scrap paper from the table, she wordlessly held out the pencil sketch of the swirling, medallion-like design that she had dreamed of the night before. She carefully scrutinized John's features until a spark of recognition lit through them. "I've seen this before, but I can't remember where…" he murmured, almost to himself. Then, he raised his eyes to hers excitedly. "But I think I understand."

"Understand _what_?" Jack asked skeptically from behind them.

John and Elizabeth, having each discovered a whiteboard marker, ignored him, and began their work.

In the end, it didn't take longer than five minutes for the pair of them to complete the crude illustration. The other occupants of the room, however, still seemed completely flabbergasted, so Elizabeth stood to one side and took it upon herself to explain. She started with the seven-symbol 'gate address she had written across the top: the address provided to her of the Replicator's shipyard planet. From there, she took the six symbols that were not the point of origin and arranged them as they were situated in space, the point where their connecting lines met indicated as the target planet. "Look, stargate addresses use six points to fix on a specific point in three-dimensional space, right?" she asked hurriedly.

In a tone so long-suffering that Elizabeth suspected he had heard all of this many, many times before, General O'Neill responded in the affirmative.

"And the ARGs still work on Asurans as far as we know, yes?" she prompted.

"Yeah…"

"Look, what she's _trying _to say is that if we put jumpers in orbit around the planet at six points, like the reference points for a stargate address, and we retrofit them with ARGs, we can place small satellites here—" John accompanied this word by tapping a small dot he had drawn in his own illustration of the planet. "—here, here, here, here, and here to amplify the frequency and—"

"—we can hit the entire planet with it," Elizabeth finished for him, excitedly, not caring where the improbable double epiphany was coming from. "Because if the wave is made to follow _this_ pattern above and into the atmosphere," She gestured emphatically at the swirling pattern she had drawn, which John was embellishing with his own marker. "It will be amplified enough to effectively encompass the entire surface of the planet, disrupting the nanites and rendering the Asurans completely harmless."

"We can hit the main Replicator planet as well," John recommended calmly, turning back towards the utterly still IOA and pair of Generals, having finished the swirl. "If we synchronize our attacks down to the minute, we would be able to rid Pegasus of the Replicators all at once, without worrying that they might be able to circumvent and protect themselves against the ARG. It won't take more than a matter of minutes."

"In addition, the ARGs only damage the Replicators. All of their equipment, cities, ships, weapons, everything; it will be unharmed and ours for the taking," Elizabeth pressed eagerly.

Beside her, John nodded vigorously. "To the victors go the spoils," he agreed.

Feeling entirely pleased with herself, Elizabeth fell into quiet, everything that had needed saying having already been said. After giving her a quick high-five, John did the same.

Though, in retrospect, Elizabeth realized she hadn't any idea where her burst of information, with its accompanying enthusiasm, had come from. Puzzled, she frowned a bit.

The room before them still seemed a bit shell-shocked, but O'Neill had already attached himself to the wall, grey plastic cord-phone to his ear. "Carter? Yeah, it's me. Listen, you're gonna wanna book it over here fast. I have something you _have_ to see."

* * *

_Coming soon... more plot! :D_

_Wish me luck at finding free time. Cheerio, and please, please, please, PLEASE drop a review!_


	9. Streak

_Hello again, you wonderful people! How are you? I hope you all had a fantastic Thanksgiving. Or, for those of you who don't live in the states, a flat-out wonderful Thursday. I know that I, for one, have now developed an unhealthy obsession with butternut squash soup, having been served it yesterday and falling in love._

_But now for the chapter. Which is the part you're actually concerned with._

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 9  
Streak

* * *

Elizabeth wasn't sure how to feel at the moment: scared or insulted. Scared, because she and John had just spontaneously solved the problem that had been vexing Earth's scientists for years in a span of five minutes, or insulted, because no one appeared to believe that either one of them were capable of doing so.

That said; she was really mostly glad that General Landry hadn't called security and immediately had the pair of them arrested and restrained. When she had said as much to John in a whisper as Colonel Carter had stared at their work, eyes alight with excitement, he had just muttered back somewhat bitterly that she was the one person he knew that could find something to be thankful for in _any_ situation.

That just left Elizabeth caught between an additional set of feelings: smug or annoyed.

As it was, the pair of them were pretty much banished to their seats at the conference table. People buzzed around them, babbling to each other with excitement or keeping suspicious watch or yelling instructions across the room, but if they moved too overly much, the hardened SGC staff would go about their business more skittishly and the two marines that stood guard at their sides would finger their zats meaningfully. Elizabeth wanted to help the scientists that Colonel Carter had called in to run simulations of what had quickly been dubbed 'dreamwave amplification theory' by Dr. Lee (She couldn't bring herself to look the man in the eye after having effectively seduced him with World Of Warcraft, of all things.) but it had quickly been determined that she was of no use other than presenting the idea, because frankly, she didn't understand it enough. John, who had started up a game of tic-tac-toe with her on the back of one of her neatly kept files, had laughed at her miffed expression and told her that she didn't _need_ to understand it. It was enough to know that it would work.

And there was absolutely no doubt in either one of their minds that it would. While she or John might not have been able to explain the exact numbers of the incredibly complex wavelength amplification process, but they _did_ know that the Replicators would be annihilated by the plan. It was an unspoken agreement between them.

Even better was that, after doing the math for herself, Samantha Carter backed them one-hundred-and-fifty percent. One call from her to O'Neill, who had holed himself up in Landry's office to escape all of the 'geeks', and the General was gung-ho for the new plan as well. Everything seemed just about perfect.

Except for the fact that she and John had done a creepy Vulcan mind-meld.

Eyes still alight with mild anxiety, Elizabeth marked a quick 'X' on the little sloppy tic-tac-toe board that John had scribbled in, barely noticing when he filled in an 'O' and claimed victory as his own with a proud dash through the line the circles formed. A restlessness had taken up residence in her body, and she really wished that she could pace right about now. Thankfully, it seemed that the universe had heard her pleas, and General Landry strode back into the room.

"Well, you two, it seems that your crazy plan could actually work," he said brusquely as they rose to meet him. The General's bushy grey eyebrows crept up his forehead a bit farther. "Understandably, we'll be delaying your return to Atlantis for a couple of days more: no more than three. Carolyn will be running a few more tests, and the IOA still has to approve the final plan of action, but I'm sure you'll both be back home in no time."

A gentle smile tugged at Elizabeth's mouth, glad that Landry had subtly acknowledged that Earth was no longer her home. Not many people from Earth understood that. "Thank you, Hank," she said with warmth, giving him the dimpled smile that she remembered well from her college days as being one that could bend any professor to her will. "I'm sure that everyone will work as quickly as possible."

Apparently, it still worked. The General gave a gruff little huff, but that couldn't hide the softening of his posture. "I'll make sure to tell them to make it snappy," he promised, shaking his head a little. Then, he turned to John. "Colonel Sheppard, you wouldn't happen to be familiar with a Captain Amelia Lattimer, would you?"

Curious, Elizabeth turned to her military commander as well, observing quietly as he visibly brightened at the question.

"Captain? She was only a Lieutenant last time I saw her."

Landry's bushy eyebrows knitted themselves together, as if he couldn't quite connect John's words with reality. "She was recruited into the SGC three months ago, but she was offworld with SG-15 until yesterday evening, when heard from Carolyn that the two of you had arrived from the Pegasus. She's been requesting to see you, but I told her you'd be unavailable due to meetings today before you left. Now though…" He trailed off, and John didn't hesitate to pick up on the thought.

"I've got a bit of free time," he laughed. "I'd love to see her. Where are her quarters?"

"I'll have someone escort you there," the General promised, waving over an SF. "And Dr. Weir, the VIP quarters aren't far from the BOQ. Would it be too much trouble if you shared a guide?"

"Not at all," Elizabeth returned smoothly, trying to hide her curiosity over this Captain Lattimer and actually succeeding. It wasn't really an issue though, because John was chatting to the marine that was to take them to their respective destinations, ahead of the man and already halfway out the door.

Frowning, Elizabeth nodded her goodbye to Landry and got up to follow.

* * *

"You bastard! Weren't you supposed to be gone by two hours ago?" the woman cried angrily upon opening the door.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows from her position of an awkward few meters behind John. She hadn't wanted to stay and meet Captain Lattimer, uncomfortable with the idea for reasons she hadn't yet determined, and had told John that she was tired. But he had given her those puppy eyes that she couldn't ever resist, so she agreed to stay and let him introduce them.

However, Elizabeth hadn't anticipated that 'introduce' would include yelling.

"Watch your mouth, airman, or I'll put my boot so far up your ass that you'll be tasting Pegasus Galaxy!" John barked out in return, a sly smirk twisting out over his face.

The surprisingly short woman (at only about 5'2'') whom Elizabeth assumed was Lattimer grinned impishly as well, white teeth flashing, and brushed a strand of long blonde hair out of her face. She was very pretty, Elizabeth thought, with a round, cheerful face, a mop of loosely braided blonde tresses, and large, sparkling blue eyes. She was obviously dressed for comfort, decked out in a worn pair of BDU pants and a white tank top, but it was obvious that she had an excellent figure, and she couldn't have been much older than thirty, youth still shining out from her features. Leaning casually against the doorframe, grin still firmly plastered in place, the Captain suddenly lost her aggression in the blink of an eye. "You wouldn't happen to be a hallucination that's the result of a psychic breakdown, would you, Bo Peep, sir?" she drawled casually.

John winced. "Mimi, I thought we agreed never to speak of that name again!" he whined, placing a hand on his chest as if she had wounded him. "You _never_ let me call you Streak!"

A slow, lazy grin spread across Lattimer's features. "Fair enough, sir. A fresh face for a fresh start," she conceded briefly before reaching over and pulling John into a tight hug, which he returned.

Still playing the part of uncomfortable observer perfectly, Elizabeth wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, or the nicknames. If she had to guess, she would assume that the strange nicknames were their pilot call-signs, a rather amusing tradition that she had witnessed among the younger Air Force members of her expedition, but had never thought to ask John about. As for the general speech patterns… well, she had never heard anyone that wasn't from Atlantis's A-team speak to John in anything close to this manner. But to be fair, she knew next to nothing about his life before the expedition, aside from what was detailed in his file. It made her question if she knew him at all, and that was a bitter pill to take, no matter which way she looked at it.

After a long moment, John and Captain Lattimer disengaged, the woman whispering something to him as they did so, making him laugh openly. The moment passed quickly however, and Lattimer turned her curious eyes onto Elizabeth, who was seriously considering just walking away. She clearly didn't belong here: at a reunion between two _very_ good friends who hadn't seen each other in years, and she was suddenly reminded of the phrase 'third wheel'.

"John, who's your friend?" the blonde woman asked, coy grin still slapped on her face and chastising the man with a light swat on the arm. "You brought her here and never introduced me!"

Elizabeth quickly pulled herself together from her obvious discomfort and into the mold of pleasantly blank diplomacy, default smile plastered across her face. It wouldn't do for John's friend to see the sudden surge of bitterness that swept through her at the sight of just how well she seemed to know her military commander. Certainly it was childish, but Elizabeth had been under the impression that she knew John very well, and she found herself harboring a certain resentment towards the woman who had shown her in all of two minutes that this wasn't true, even if she didn't deserve it.

John, turning in time to see her close off, blinked at this reaction, but didn't say anything about her sudden bout of professionalism. Instead, he did as Lattimer asked and introduced them. "Mimi, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Amelia," he said cordially, standing in between them and a little off to the side while shooting Elizabeth a curious glance.

Elizabeth ignored him, shaking Lattimer's hand politely. "It's very nice to meet you, Captain Lattimer," she told her through her fixed smile, still managing to sound and appear fairly amicable.

"Call me Mimi," Lattimer instructed with a wink. "It's nice to meet you as well, Elizabeth…"

"Weir. Dr. Elizabeth Weir," Elizabeth finished for her, hearing the question that Lattimer had imbued her statement with and responding accordingly.

The shorter woman's bright blue eyes widened. "I've read through a lot of Atlantis's mission reports, ma'am, looking for John. It really is an honor to meet you."

"Yes, well, I'm sure any mission reports that include me aren't as exciting as those that include John, though I thank you anyways," Elizabeth demurred, dropping the other woman's hand. "John's never mentioned you, but I'm honored to meet anyone who's a friend of his," she added, mentally scolding herself for wanting to behave childishly, and assuring herself that John Sheppard _was_ a great judge of character. So was Elizabeth –it was something they had in common—and it was for this reason that she knew that Captain Lattimer wasn't a bad person, as much as she wished that were true.

In fact, it was knowing just the opposite that made Elizabeth wish she was anywhere but with her and John.

"I have a secret stash of M&Ms and coffee from the science labs just in here. Would you two like to come in and party with me?" Lattimer offered, shooting the both of them a winsome smile.

"You had me drooling at M&Ms, Mimi," John laughed, throwing an arm around her small shoulders, like he used to do to Lieutenant Ford when he was screwing around with him, and jostling her playfully. Then, he turned to a hesitating Elizabeth and shot her the puppy eyes, flagrant in his good humor. "Come on 'Lizabeth, just for a little while?" he wheedled.

Elizabeth had opened her mouth to acquiesce when she suddenly thought better of it, realizing how out of her element she was with a pair of pilots who were old friends and knowing that she most likely had very little in common with Lattimer. Instead, she flashed her best apologetic grin. "Sorry John, Captain Lattimer. I'm afraid I have to use this opportunity to catch up on a little paperwork. Do have fun, though," she said coolly, already starting to back her way down the grey cement hallway to where the marine had told her the VIP quarters were.

John didn't really buy it. His expression flicked from one of juvenile happiness to one of concern in an instant, a loss for which Elizabeth felt badly. Letting go of Lattimer, he quickly moved to her side and invaded her personal space so that they could talk more privately. "Is everything all right, Elizabeth?" he asked quietly. "I know you're tired, but you _love_ M&Ms. Especially the red ones."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him, wondering how he knew that (aside from guessing, by observing her pervasive propensity for that color).

For his part, John appeared sheepish. "I saw you sorting a bag by color a couple of weeks ago and setting all the red ones aside. Your mom told me you save the red ones for when you're having a bad day," he explained.

Deciding to talk about what a strange thing that was to know about your boss at a later date, Elizabeth just shot him a fake smile. "John, I'm fine. Really," she promised. "I'm tired, and you have an old friend who obviously missed you. I don't need to be here. I know I promised to stay close when we were offworld, but I'm pretty sure the SGC personnel will keep any hostile aliens away from us long enough for you to have a personal moment."

All right. Weak response. But Elizabeth couldn't be the third wheel any longer.

"I have work to do, Colonel Sheppard," she reminded him firmly, "and you have a vacation to enjoy. I'll see you tomorrow." Before he could respond, Elizabeth fled at a dignified walk, nodding a socially acceptable goodbye to a frowning Lattimer as she went.

* * *

Taking a long draught from the wine glass clutched between her chilly hands, Elizabeth cast a furtive glance at the clunky black alarm clock hunkered down on the plain bedside table of the room she had been assigned, almost afraid to read it. She was relieved when it only said 1:00am. She had judged by her own exhaustion that it was later, now doubly glad that somebody had been thoughtful enough to leave a bottle of wine and some glasses in her room. She hardly ever drank when she was in Atlantis, and it was nice to get the opportunity now, despite the unusual hour. With a small sigh, she returned to the file in her hand, intrigued. She had brought a lot of the work she had to catch up on along with her in a quaint briefcase, and since the delay in her return to Atlantis the day before, she had made her way through all of them. Mission reports, science team reports, materials acquisition requests, personnel transfer requests, budget assessments, and even the odd personal project that someone wanted her to look through. She hadn't given this particular geologist's report a second glance at first, but when Elizabeth had ventured down to the SGC cafeteria to grab some of the blue jell-o that Colonel Carter had insisted was the best dessert served there, she had seen something that had set off a tiny spark in her mind that was so occupied with not thinking about her best friend, Colonel Sheppard. It was a simple thing, really: just some civilian scientist with a rare streak of fun. The admittedly non-remarkable woman had been standing just in front of Elizabeth in line, and Elizabeth's attention had immediately been drawn to her unusual hairpiece. The woman had the short, cropped hairstyle that was popular among many of the military personnel, but a very small area of her hair had been knotted into a thin braid, into which was looped a single green glass bead. It was unusual, and simple.

Which brought her back to the geologist's report that she now had in her hand. Normally, although Elizabeth would never admit it out loud, she really didn't care about the geology of Lantea's mainland when she had much bigger problems, like multiple races of aliens trying to kill them, to consider. So initially, she really didn't have much interest in the stone, dubbed 'Lapis Lantea' by the geologist who had written the report, which he had discovered in the Ancient equivalent of a landfill on the mainland. It had already been determined that the dumping ground for Ancient control crystals was of no use to the Atlantis Expedition, all of the broken equipment having been ground into dust and assimilated into the earth at least 10,000 years ago, most of them even longer than that. Elizabeth had no interest in what wasn't useful. She didn't really have more than a mild interest in the fact that the control crystal dust had undergone geological changes that she didn't understand, resulting in a lapis lazuli-like stone that was a deep, rich purple in color and filled with seams of gleaming gold material that let of a weak glow when near Ancient technology. That, the geologist said, was the crystal dust. But again, Elizabeth didn't really care.

That is, until the bead in the hair of the woman Elizabeth had seen in the cafeteria had reminded her of a photograph of a bead that one of the Athosians had created out of the Lapis Lantea that the geologist had included in his report. Shined and polished properly, the Lapis Lantea was actually remarkably pretty, and entirely unique.

In light of her new idea, Elizabeth found that she suddenly _did_ care about geology. Pulling out the small notepad she carried with her for convenience, she carefully wrote in her neat print a note to remind herself to speak with Dr. McKay, Dr. Brenn (the geologist) and Teyla about putting it into action.

A knock on the door startled her so much that she broke off the tip of her pencil on the little pad.

Wondering who could possibly be up at this hour besides herself, Elizabeth pulled a robe over her rumpled pajama bottoms and black sports bra and carefully opened the door. Much to her surprise, it was John who stood there. Elizabeth literally hadn't spoken with him for over twenty-four hours, as she had been kept in additional meetings or medical tests all day, and when she _did_ have a free moment to track him down, Captain Lattimer had always found him first, and she didn't want to intrude, because John always seemed so happy to be around her. In a very big way, Elizabeth missed her earpiece. She had often found her hand straying to where it usually was, intending to talk with whomever had crossed her mind, only to belatedly remember that the SGC had no such system. In Atlantis, she would have been able to reach John at any time of the day or night, if she had need to, as long as he wasn't offworld. The forced separation was disconcerting, and she found that she missed him.

Although that didn't explain why he was knocking on her door in the wee hours of the morning, in plain BDU pants and black t-shirt.

"J-John! What are you doing here?" Elizabeth spluttered in surprise, suddenly very aware of her disheveled appearance. (Bedhead happened. Even to the civilian leader of Atlantis.) "Why are you still awake?"

For his part, John appeared uncomfortable, shifting a bit on his feet, but keeping firm eye contact. "I saw your light from under your door," he admitted. "I was awake, and you are too, and I didn't get a chance to see you today. Yesterday," he corrected, glancing at his watch. "So… hello, I guess," he concluded.

Despite herself, Elizabeth snorted in amusement. "Hello to you too," she replied easily, feeling newly lighthearted. Calmer after her initial surprise, she opened her door wider and stood aside. "Would you care to come in, partner in insomnia?" she offered.

Giving her a smile, John stepped inside and leaned up casually against the wall. As she closed the door, Elizabeth found herself idly wondering how bad this would look were anyone to see them, and she bit her lip nervously before deciding that no one who's opinion she valued would be up this late anyways. Carefully, she gathered all of the papers that she had scattered across her bed, stacking them neatly on the floor by its foot and unceremoniously sitting cross-legged on the newly cleared surface. "You can sit down, John. It's too late for anyone to be standing up," Elizabeth informed him, patting the cheap bedding at her side and re-gathering her wine glass, along with one she poured for John. "Whoever stocked the snacks in this room left cheap Pinot Noir instead of cheap coffee. Nice of them, but they obviously don't know me very well, do they?"

"What would you do without caffeine?" John wondered aloud, accepting the offered glass and sitting down next to her.

Elizabeth didn't dignify that with a response, simply sipping from her glass and studying him over its rim with sleepy green eyes as he mirrored her actions. Deciding to change the subject, she asked quickly, "Have you enjoyed enduring copious medical tests to see if we're infected with alien life forms?"

"Lam's worse than Carson," John whined in response, pointing to the band-aid in the crook of his elbow where the doctor had drawn blood.

"She keeps telling me to eat more too, just like Carson," Elizabeth admitted, smirking. "She and Carson seem to be sharing a brain."

Laughing quietly, John agreed with her. Sobering slightly, he then added, "It's not the same, though."

Elizabeth had to agree. It seemed that he missed Atlantis and its people just as much as she did. "No, it isn't." They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping at the cheap wine and gazing at the beige walls, so different from their home. After a while, a grin started to quirk the edge of Elizabeth's mouth as she thought back to the last conversation she had with him.

"What?" John asked suspiciously, regarding the smile as dangerous.

"I just got the joke," Elizabeth admitted. "Captain Lattimer called you Bo Peep. Little Bo Peep was a shepherd, because she herded sheep. You're Sheppard," she giggled, in disbelief that she hadn't caught the pun sooner. It wasn't as if it were very original.

Grimacing, John ran a hand through his perpetually unruly hair. "Yeah, one of my instructors in flight school thought he was being clever," he told her. "I hated it, but that was the call sign that stuck. People still used it when I met Mimi, so she likes to tease me with it. She never lets me use it, but _her _call sign was Streak. Apparently, some of the other recruits stole her clothes while she was in the shower on the first day, so she walked right back into the women's bunker, buck naked, and went about her business like nothing happened until someone took pity on her and gave them back."

All right, _that_ was pretty funny, Elizabeth had to admit, and she burst into a long peal of laughter. "How _did_ you meet Captain Lattimer?" Elizabeth finally asked once she had recovered, downing the rest of her wine and giving John a soft smile.

Shooting her a long-suffering look, John polished off his glass as well, then reached for the bottle so he could refill the both of them. "I actually tried to pick her up in one of the bars near the base I was stationed at, years ago," he admitted, shaking his head. "She played me for free drinks for about half an hour until she finally felt bad about it, apologized, and invited me to join her and her girlfriend for dinner."

Elizabeth did a mental double-take. "I thought she was an ex-girlfriend of yours or something!" she spluttered indignantly.

John just laughed at her reaction. "Don't ask, don't tell, remember?" he prompted. "Although," he revised, "Amelia has always taken it as more of an 'Don't ask, 'cause I'll tell' kind of deal. You know she actually asked me if you were single?"

"I hope you told her that Atlantis is my one and only lesbian love," Elizabeth said stoically, tipping her glass at him threateningly but with a spark of humor in her eyes that was not lost on her companion.

John cocked his head at her. "Atlantis is a girl?"

"She's a ship, isn't she? Besides, she's far to pretty to be a boy."

"Fair enough."

Elizabeth sat back against the headboard smugly, stifling a yawn. She was tired, but enjoying herself far too much to go to sleep. "Would you like to watch a movie, John?" she suggested, plunging her hand into the drawer in the bedside table in search for the TV remote.

"Are… are you sure that's all right?" he asked hesitantly.

"No. But it's better to ask forgiveness than permission," Elizabeth quipped, pulling her robe more tightly around her as she got up and walked over to the tiny television set, beside which was a small stack of DVDs. "Uh… _Men in Black_, _Predator_, _Total Recall, _and… and _Finding Nemo_?" Shaking her head at the strange sense of humor of whoever had chosen the films (She understood the joke of the science-fiction films, but not how the inclusion of a children's animated movie was in any way relevant.) Elizabeth turned back to John, lips pursed and eyebrows raised in a question.

"_Finding Nemo_," he answered immediately, kicking off his shoes and sprawling himself across the bed. Seeing the disbelieving look Elizabeth had directed at him, John sat halfway up and demanded, "What? I look like I'm twelve. The least I deserve is leeway to watch kid movies."

Throwing her hands up in mock surrender, Elizabeth acquiesced and began to fumble with the DVD player, wrinkling her nose in concentration. She wasn't quite sure why it was taking more effort on her part to figure out how an Earth-made piece of simple technology worked than it did a 10,000+ year old Ancient computer, but Elizabeth decided to blame it on the combination of the late hour and the wine. However, she soon found the right buttons to hit, and padded back to the bed, one side of which John had vacated to give her her space. "I must say, I never missed the incessant commercials," she commented mildly as she curled up in her spot, frowning at the pushy advertising and punching at the menu button.

"That's one good thing about not having TV," John agreed. "No commercials, and above all, no political ads."

"Amen," Elizabeth muttered, before settling down to enjoy the movie. A sleepy contentment filled her as she watched the colorful characters flit across the grainy screen, feeling warm and safe and ready to let go of everything. She didn't last thirty minutes before she was sound asleep.

* * *

_Thank you SO much for all of the favorites, alerts, and reviews. I appreciate and read every single one. :D_


	10. Of Plots and Kissing

_Hey-o! How's it going, my pretties? I myself am not appreciating my chemistry class, but that's neither here nor there._

_I think you're going to _love_ this chapter. I was in a _really_ strange mood when I wrote it, and it turned out pretty crazy and playful. I also have a little cameo of my darling Vala, whom I adore! Let's just hope that it all makes sense, because I _did_ do this pretty late at night..._

_Enjoy yourselves, and PLEASE review! (One day I'm going to run out of ideas! What will you do then, hmm?)_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter Ten  
Of Plots and Kissing

* * *

As per usual, it was a nightmare that started Elizabeth into the waking world with a light gasp, although she couldn't remember anything about it other than being afraid, this time. Blinking into the semi-darkness that surrounded her, the woman took a moment to calm her racing heart. The movie had long since ended, and the screen once again displayed the menu page, complete with brightly colored coral and bubble noises, that cast a wan light over her quarters. A quick flick of the eyes to the clock by her head told her that it was a little after five o'clock in the morning.

Now feeling considerably calmer, as well as hazily warm and not-quite-awake (She hadn't had her coffee yet.) Elizabeth attempted to stretch her sleep-stiff muscles. She was greatly surprised to find that she immediately encountered an obstacle to this motion, which happened to be John Sheppard, fast asleep. Then again, _she_ had fallen asleep. It was unfair of her to assume that John would not. No, what _really_ bothered her was the fact that he was spooned very tightly against her, one arm thrown possessively over her waist and the other tucked under his head: enveloping her with a pleasant warmth and the clean, musky smell that was uniquely John. Recognizing the position as a very intimate one that just-friends Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir should _not_ be indulging in, under _any_ circumstances, Elizabeth felt herself blush ruby red.

What was worse, it was now a time of day that people would be up and about all parts of the SGC, not just the science labs. John _would _be seen emerging from her quarters in the early hours of the morning.

What had she done? This was bad. _Very_ bad. As in, 'they-already-think-I'm-compromised-so-let's-give-them-another-excuse-to-fire-me' type bad.

Well, there was nothing she could do to rectify the situation now, Elizabeth thought bitterly. As it was, the best she could do for the both of them would be to stay quiet, and let John sleep a little longer. He thought quickly on his feet, but Elizabeth knew that if he was tired enough to fall asleep in his boss' bed, he was far more exhausted than he outwardly seemed, and she would need that mind of his operating at one hundred percent if they were going to get out of this mess relatively unscathed.

Resigned, Elizabeth closed her eyes again, forcing herself to relax. Panic never induced clear thinking. Instead, she chose to work on one of the basic meditation techniques that Teyla had been gracious enough to show her, attempting to focus only on the pulse of her own heartbeat and the quiet rush of her steady breathing. Admittedly, having John still so near was _very_ distracting, but against her better judgment, Elizabeth decided to tolerate his proximity. She would never admit it out loud, but the way in which John held her so tenderly, even in his sleep, was a balm to an ache she had never really acknowledged existed. There was little harm, she argued feebly to herself, in making the best out of a bad situation and simply enjoying the moment that she knew would come to a not-so-pretty end. For now, Elizabeth silently decided, leaning delicately into John, she was content to lie still and pretend that all of the horrible things in two galaxies did not exist.

* * *

Elizabeth wasn't sure how long she had been asleep when John began to stir, not really waking her fully, but pulling her slowly back into slow-minded awareness. Not much had changed about their respective body positions since she had last woken, although Elizabeth had somehow managed to snuggle even further into the strong, solid warmth that was supporting her back, (something that she was _not_ pleased to discover). Somewhat mortified, Elizabeth's nerve failed her, and she pretended to still be fully unconscious and allow John to wake up on his own, rather than rouse herself and then him.

Although admittedly, she was really very curious to see how the man would handle the situation.

She didn't have to wait long. The soft hum of contentment that she could feel emanating from his chest told her that he had awakened, but the stiffening of his body in shock told her when exactly he realized where he was, and what he was doing.

All was silent in the room, aside from the soft fish-tank noises that the TV was still emitting. Elizabeth could practically hear the gears in John's head whirring, more likely than not thinking along the same lines that she had when she had first awoken. She sympathized, but was more afraid of the awkwardness that would ensure if she interrupted his thought process now than she was of letting the Colonel think, (always a dangerous pastime). It took a few minutes, but eventually, Elizabeth felt him relax against her. They remained this way for a few moments more, but much to her surprise, Elizabeth soon felt a rough hand gently ghost down the length of her arm, and she barely suppressed a shiver. He was only doing this because he thought she was asleep, but still… Self-control now spent, Elizabeth was then unable to contain the involuntary whimper that escaped her when John removed his arm and tried to pull away, exposing the bare skin of her lower back and belly, which was not protected by her comfortable sports bra or the robe she had been wearing, which was now tangled loosely around her waist, to the frigid air in the room. It was, to say the least, a very uncomfortable sensation, and she weakly attempted to scoot back into her heat source.

John was having none of this though. His hands moved with surprising speed to firmly grasp her hips and hold her away from him, although he allowed her upper body to move without resistance. "No you don't, evil little bottom," he muttered quietly enough that she almost didn't catch it. Then, raising his voice a little, he called evenly, "Hey, 'Lizabeth? 'Lizabeth, wake up."

Elizabeth groaned in defeat, and opened her eyes to face the accusatory red stare of the clock on the bedside table. Seven thirty. She didn't have another meeting scheduled until nine: didn't have to be Dr. Weir until nine. That was the only good news. The bad news? This was most likely not a dream. "John…" she asked in a voice husky with sleep, but still struck with incredulity. "Did you just call me an evil little bottom?" She would have turned over to look at him, but his hands kept her firmly in place, so she made do with blinking blearily at the wall instead.

"Well… not exactly, no," came the familiar evasive response.

Raising one eyebrow, Elizabeth waited. She knew that he could hear her cynicism in her silence.

Sure enough, the man relented. "You just _have_ one."

"You think my bottom is evil?" she questioned, amused. Carefully, she rolled over to face him, just in time to receive his own raised eyebrow.

"At this time in the morning and in that position? Definitely," he shot back.

Understanding, Elizabeth turned a little pink. "Oh," was all she could manage.

"Yeah," came the short reply.

Awkward.

"So, any ideas on how not to get fired, at this point?" Elizabeth tried feebly.

Giving her a grateful look, which was soon replaced by a pensive one, John slowly shook his head, absently tucking the sheet higher up around Elizabeth's waist, seeing that her entire upper body had erupted into goosebumps. "Not any good ones," he confessed. "I mean, I could always try to clean myself up here, so I can leave and pretend that I was just visiting, which I actually was in the first place, making it not _technically_ a lie." This was followed by a semi-amused lopsided grin.

Elizabeth eyed him suspiciously. "That could either work beautifully or backfire horribly, if they check the surveillance tapes," she pointed out. "How likely do you think they are to fall for it? At least until we get back to Atlantis."

John shrugged. "No idea," he pronounced.

"Very helpful," Elizabeth muttered, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.

"Hey, 'Lizabeth?"

"Yes?"

"You're good at pillow talk."

Elizabeth hit him in the arm with a slipper.

* * *

Much to Elizabeth's chagrin, she _hadn't_ been able to come up with a better idea. It was cramped, rushed, and awkward, but they both managed to share the little adjoining bathroom, each taking a turn in the shower while the other sat awkwardly outside in the bedroom, waiting for the other to finish. Not an ideal situation, admittedly, but they made do.

John was the first to leave, a set of arbitrary files clutched in one hand as Elizabeth shooed him from the room with a none-too-subtle admonishment for him to get his paperwork done on time next time. Hearing this, a passing pair of marines chortled in amusement and sympathy, and John, rolling his eyes, joined them for the trek to the cafeteria. Just as they had planned, Elizabeth did not follow for another twenty minutes, but rather bided her time and tidied up the room. If all went well, they would return to Atlantis sometime that night, and she wanted to have her bags packed and ready. With how busy she was to be that day, she doubted she'd have much time to pack. Even less to properly digest what had happened that morning.

Fortunately for Elizabeth, her predetermined departure time arrived just as her stomach started to growl. Straightening her ruffled red blouse and black dress pants (One always tried to look their best when dealing with the IOA.) she took one last peek into the mirror before taking her leave and making a beeline for the cafeteria. She was about halfway there before she encountered a woman who she recognized as one Vala Mal Doran, whom she had briefly met when SG-1 had visited Atlantis. Smiling happily, Elizabeth opened her mouth to say hello, but her words caught in her throat as she realized how shifty the woman looked. That, and the fact that she had a red welt across one side of her face which was rapidly bruising into a black eye.

For her part, Vala appeared inordinately relieved to see her. However, having heard a few tales of her exploits, Elizabeth just narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Vala, what are you—"

With surprising strength for someone her size, the woman grabbed her shoulders and pressed her up against one of the cold grey sides of the hallway. "I'm sorry, Dr. Weir. It is very good to see you again -strange alien beauty treatments suit you, really- but there's no time to explain. I need to hide in plain sight!" she exclaimed in her pleasantly fruity accent, casting her glittering eyes around in a hunted manner.

Squirming against Vala's grip, not at all enjoying the sensation of being pinned bodily to the cold wall by a woman who was obviously very comfortable with unnecessary physical contact, Elizabeth tried again. "Vala, I—"

Again, she wasn't able to finish. Elizabeth barely had time to register the appearance of two very angry-looking marines rounding the corner before Vala pressed her body flat up against hers and kissed her full on the mouth.

Not what she was expecting. At all.

For several moments, Elizabeth was too shocked to protest. However, once she had gathered her scrambled thoughts, she found herself unable to move, as Vala had effectively trapped her, and despite the situation, Elizabeth didn't really want to hurt her. (Although, considering the fact that Vala was an incredibly accomplished fighter, and Elizabeth was not, that outcome was extremely unlikely.)

Thankfully, the uncomfortable moment didn't last long, as Vala was pulled away, rather roughly, by one of the marines. "Just what do you think you're doing?" the man demanded of the raven-haired woman, pulling her around to face him and his dark-complexioned buddy as Elizabeth stood rooted in place, not sure what was happening or how to feel about being spontaneously kissed, then ignored.

"Minding my own business, just like you should be doing. Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to interrupt a couple?" Vala shot back saucily, maneuvering herself between the men and Elizabeth in a strange show of protectiveness. "Mind telling me why you did so?"

Large fists clenching angrily at his sides, the fair-haired marine that had spoken, taller and broader than either of the girls, but slightly smaller than his friend, looked like he wanted to hit the alien woman. "You beat up Dovritsky and Shelton," he growled.

The other one clearly echoed the hostile sentiment. "No one messes with our team."

"They messed with _my_ team first," Vala shot back quietly, drawing herself up and lifting her chin. "I do not regret defending him." It was only from the unique vantage point of being behind her and so close that Elizabeth saw the trembling in her left leg and the slight shift of weight as she favored it. Clearly, between this and the blow to her face, the tussle with these marines' teammates hadn't left Vala unscathed.

"Stand down marines," Elizabeth commanded, stepping out from behind the woman.

"No offence miss, but this doesn't concern civilian scientists," one of them said, neither of them taking their eyes off of Vala.

"Consider it a direct order from a superior," Elizabeth said coldly. "Stand. Down."

"I would listen to her, boys," came the drawl from the other end of the hall. "I don't take kindly to grunts like you threatening my friends. Neither does General Landry."

It was Cameron. "You have two days' mandatory leave to cool your heels," he told them casually. "Starting now."

Recognizing defeat, the two marines, scowling, took their leave. Vala stood strong until they rounded the corner, but sagged against the wall once they had stomped out of sight. Once again unsure of what was happening, Elizabeth just stood rooted in place.

"Vala, haven't I told you that you've got to stop fighting?" Cameron scolded, going to her side, hands on hips. "You can't keep taking on whole SG teams by yourself."

Fixing her bright eyes upon him, the woman huffed a stray strand of her wild hair out of her face. "I had to, Mitchell. They were saying cruel things about Daniel again. I... I know he can take care of himself, but he wasn't even there to hear the bloody morons and I just couldn't… I had to do it."

For a few moments, the Cameron eyed her, but eventually just sighed in acceptance. "I'm sorry you had to see this, Dr. Weir," he apologized, running a hand over his eyes.

"I understand," Elizabeth admitted, tilting her head to one side. "I was… very startled—" Vala grinned roguishly. "—but I understand."

Cameron shot her a grateful look before turning back to Vala. "You remember the deal, from last time this happened," he prompted sternly, grinning a little as she scowled at him. "Go on. Infirmary. Now."

Curiously, Elizabeth watched in fascination as the woman lurched angrily off of the wall and limped off down the hallway. "What was the deal?" she queried.

"That next time she instigated civil war between the SG teams defending Jackson's honor, she had to go be punished by Carolyn. And I get to tell Jackson all about what she's done." The impish grin that lit Cameron's face was priceless.

And Elizabeth, seeing Mitchell's diabolical plan, laughed.

* * *

"Elizabeth, we need to talk before you go in there," General Landry called from behind her, making her jump.

"I'm sorry?" she blurted, fork still loaded with the omelet she had been about to stick into her mouth. Her attention drifting elsewhere while she ate, Elizabeth hadn't quite been prepared for civilized conversation when Landry had approached.

As if sensing this, the General gave her an indulgent smile as he seated himself next to her, close enough to carry on a private conversation, shielded by the noise of the semi-crowded cafeteria. "The game's changed," he told her, seriousness returning in an instant. "We've got a new player."

Elizabeth gazed at the man, concerned. She knew exactly what game she was referring to. It was the game around which her livelihood centered. "Will we still be able to go home?" she asked urgently, fearing the answer.

"That's up to you," Landry answered. "Didn't you wonder why the IOA agreed so easily to your return?"

Elizabeth paused for a moment, and then sucked in a breath. "The military's making a push for control," she realized aloud. "I'm the best the IOA can do."

Nodding, Landry leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. "General Nikolai Tavritsky. He's your new enemy here," he said quickly and earnestly. "He's by-the-book, new to the program, and a puppet for higher-ups of rather dubious nature to take control. He'll go after you, and go after you hard. But you can take him, if you're prepared."

Feeling ice creep through her limbs, Elizabeth took a moment to consider this new, vague bit of information before nodding determinedly. "Thank you, Hank," she said honestly, truly meaning it. After all, he was a General: and as a General, Landry's first loyalty was to the military. He was breaking several unspoken rules by helping her even this much, and she was incredibly grateful.

"Don't mention it," came his reply. He too fell into stoicism, although he did break it long enough to shoot her a small wink. "And good luck." With that, he left her to prepare.

* * *

"You have been compromised, Dr. Weir. There's no two ways about it. Would you put all of Atlantis in danger out of selfishness?" General Tavritsky hissed, palms flat against the polished table. "You're a danger to the entire Stargate Program. To be honest, it's completely unfathomable to me how you could have ever possibly been cleared for return to one of Earth's most valuable assets!" The man's craggy white eyebrows slithered over his slick brow as he stared Elizabeth down. The cowed members of the IOA sat silently in their seats, like so many lifeless black and white statues. Both General Landry and General O'Neill were present as well, but they too did not react, knowing that this was a battle that they could not fight for her.

But Elizabeth, being Elizabeth, refused to crack. Calmly, she fixed her cool green gaze on the stout General and considered him. "Are the assurances of Dr. Beckett, Dr. Keller, _and_ Dr. Lam not enough to assure you that I pose no threat to my expedition, and by extension, Earth?" she enquired mildly.

"Our medical staff can only test for so much. You of all people should know that," the white-haired General pointed out, taking his seat again rather smugly.

"Yes, what with nothing out of the ordinary occurring in my brain chemistry or physiology (aside from the obvious), my genetic profile remaining a perfect match, and absolutely no traces of any foreign organisms or technology having been found in my body, I can see that our doctors' methods display both stunning ignorance and incompetence," Elizabeth shot back snarkily, although in a tone so even and seemingly respectful that she was certain it was maddening. "What do _you_ theorize happened to me, General Tavritsky? You are obviously a well-informed man. I am not a clone, nor am I a za'tarc. I carry no alien viruses or bacteria in my blood, and am not symptomatic in any way of anything other than what comes naturally with youth. Pray tell, what has happened to me for which I should be condemned."

This, at least, engendered a reaction from the last-minute panel of IOA and ambassadors that had been hastily assembled to decide upon Elizabeth and John's fate. They stirred and tittered, sharing significant looks amongst themselves as they eyed Tavritsky expectantly.

Much to Elizabeth's grudging admiration, the General did not rise to the bait. "You are an intelligent woman yourself, Dr. Weir. You know as well as any of us that stranger things have happened in the two galaxies than something subtle slipping through a medical exam," he grunted.

Elizabeth dipped her head in acquiescence. "Indeed I do," she ceded. "But in my experience, which is, I remind you, far greater than yours, it is never wise to deter a potential advantage, no matter which form it may take. Like it or not, General, Atlantis is _my_ command. Mine and Colonel Sheppard's." At this point, Elizabeth's voice was gaining more assertiveness than it had previously carried. "Atlantis isn't some military base, where everything under the sun moves back and forth like clockwork. Atlantis is a _city_, though more importantly, Atlantis is a way of life. We fight, we win, we assist, we protect, and we never leave our people behind. I admit that yes, there is risk, sending us back. However, you have done all you can to ensure that that risk does not exist, and on the off chance that we _were_ compromised, I trust in my people's ability to handle and contain the situation effectively. It's my turn to now point out that _you_, more than anyone, should know what leadership means: especially to a coterie so close as Atlantis. Is potentially averting an unlikely mishap, the likes of which we have dealt with before, worth tearing down what we've built with the blood of our people and years of hard work? Between the two of us, who's proposing to do the most damage?"

Finally drawing an end to her long-winded tirade, of which Elizabeth personally thought Mr. Woolsey would be proud, Elizabeth sat back and regarded the room with a mild curiosity that was completely belied by the fire in her snapping green eyes. The IOA appeared both simultaneously disturbed and triumphant, Tavritsky looked about ready to strangle her, and Generals Landry and O'Neill appeared carefully neutral. (Although Elizabeth could have sworn that one or both of them had given her a quick wink.)

She knew well enough that she had just won her and John's places in Atlantis back from limbo. That fact filled her with a warm satisfaction, although she had enough tact not to show it. Later, she decided, would be the time for personal celebration. Perhaps a bar of chocolate would become involved.

However, a seed of doubt burrowed into her. It had been the right thing to do: to prevent a military takeover of Atlantis. But… what if General Tavritsky had been right?

Elizabeth didn't think that she could survive anyone else dying because of her. Not after Montega, Miller, Sean, and Beyermaltze.

God, if she really _was_ a danger… Elizabeth didn't know what she'd do.

* * *

Her mother had always told her that she would have days that simply defied everything a normal day was supposed to be. This piece of wisdom was always accompanied by her father quipping that, "Shit happens." To her credit, Elizabeth had always believed them.

This was turning out to be one of those days.

On the trek back to the VIP quarters, not only was Elizabeth nearly crushed when trying to help a man –she vaguely remembered his face from her time in command of the SGC, and a passing 'gate technician had called him Siler—who appeared to have, somehow, trapped himself beneath several heavy crates of bananas in the middle of the hallway leading into the 'gate room, but she was also witness to some rather strange occurrences. She saw Dr. Lee being chased through an entire floor by a Dalmatian, Samantha Carter walking by in a smoking lab coat and blonde hair blown straight back from her face, looking as chipper and cheerful as if someone had just handed her a bouquet of flowers, an open door to what appeared to be a room full of assorted cell phones mounted to the walls and hooked up to a larger machine, which was painted an obnoxious yellow, and even caught a glimpse of Daniel and Vala outside of Vala's quarters. She was crying, and looked very upset, as did Daniel, although he appeared a little angry. Elizabeth was about to go ask what was wrong when he said something, Vala replied, and they both locked themselves in a passionate kiss and blundered into the room.

Elizabeth decided that they were fine.

Remarkably, after a few very long minutes of walking (How she missed transporters!) Elizabeth made it into her room unscathed. For a few minutes, she simply stood there, enjoying the quiet, before rousing herself and moving to check everything over to make sure that all of her belongings were bundled into her little duffel. They were to depart to Atlantis that evening, and Elizabeth's heart was filled with swells of quiet happiness. Her time on Earth had been well enough, but she knew that nothing this planet had to offer could compare to the wonders of her home.

Well… perhaps coffee.

* * *

The moment that Elizabeth stepped from the Milky Way Galaxy into the Pegasus Galaxy, she was assaulted by the sudden cacophony of a multitude of cheers and shouts. She froze, startled at the sight of so many people in the control room, and was rewarded by John cannoning into her from behind as he rematerialized out of the Stargate.

Rather than start bickering with him immediately, Elizabeth just shot him an irritated glare (at which he gave her his best kicked puppy expression) and studiously returned her attention to what appeared to be half the expedition gathered in the control room. Together, small carry-on bags still held loosely in their hands, they watched as small celebrations began to cascade through the crowd. Everyone was smiling; scientists from the labs, chisel-jawed marines, kitchen staff, cleaning crew, technicians, engineers, and medical staff alike. Zelenka and Teyla were there, along with Rodney, Kate Heightmeyer, Sarah Evans, Carson, Jennifer Keller, Major Lorne, little Miko, and, of course, the ever-present Chuck and Amelia. Even Mr. Woolsey had shown up, looking simultaneously both amused and irritated with the open display of hooliganry that was probably a breach of some sort of obscure protocol. In the back, a line of about thirty female military members in full dress uniform snapped to attention, then grinned raucously and lifted a series of the plastic cafeteria trays above their heads on which they each had written a letter off "Welcome Home: Col. Sheppard & Dr. Weir" with what appeared to be either dried catsup or blood. Needless to say, Elizabeth chose to assume, for the sake of her own sanity, the former.

It was exactly this sort of controlled chaos that she had missed so fiercely during her short stay on Earth.

"Welcome home, 'Lizabeth," John murmured through the smile and wave he was lavishing upon their people.

Having long since joined him in waving hello, Elizabeth simply responded, "There's no place like it," before gladly accepting the embraces of her family.

* * *

_Aaaaand we're done here. For this chapter, at least. ¿Les gustan, mis queridos? Review! :D_

_Many thanks to those of you who have added this to your alerts or favorites. You're awesome._


	11. Breathe

_Lucky me, I have the flu! (Yeah. Not so lucky. I'm completely miserable. I had to miss my band concert, too.) However, it's kind of lucky for you, because I now have a whole lot of time to finish this chapter, which is kind of exciting._

_I do apologize if it sounds kind of like the incoherent ravings of a madwoman. I'm on medication at the moment, and haven't eaten anything in... a while. That I've kept down anyways._

_Please keep those reviews coming. I know they're kind of a bother, but they really do help keep the inspiration flowing, and feedback makes for happy authors. Happy authors make for excellent chapters. Excellent chapters make for happy readers, and happy readers make for more reviews! (Circle of life.)_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 11  
Breathe

* * *

"I would like to welcome each and every one of you to tonight's celebrations with all of my heart," Elizabeth pronounced, a little thrown by the sound of her amplified voice reverberating over the utterly silent crowd massed before her, which swayed in sympathy with each breath of wind that sporadically swept over the surface of the East Pier, where they were gathered. Their usual gathering places, such as the Cafeteria or 'gate room, had proved to small to hold them. This was in spite of the fact that not every member of the expedition was present, as there needed to be people manning the various stations of the city at all times, for safety purposes. However, it was very close to it, and those still inside the city were able to listen to the speech via the comm. link. Present as well was a healthy portion of the Athosians, tempted away from their village on the mainland by a night of revelry, the off-duty crew members of both the_ Daedalus _and the _Apollo_, which had arrived from the Milky Way a little over two days ago, and the surprisingly numerous civilian family members that had arrived along with them to join whomever it was that they loved that had invited them to the great City. (Elizabeth hadn't expected that so many people would be willing to uproot their lives in exchange for a chance to live with a family member on a highly dangerous, top-secret base in an unspecified location. But since she had been informed of the decision to allow just that, three weeks ago, they had apparently filled both the _Daedalus_ and the _Apollo_ to full capacity in record time. The prospect of a larger civilian population thrilled her, but especially so the addition of children, seven of which had arrived among the other emigrants. Little Elizabeth McKendricks was among them, her father having 'gated back to Earth shortly after John and Elizabeth's return to retrieve her.)

"Tonight is a night for celebration: one that is long overdue, I might add." A low chuckle ran through the crowd, and Elizabeth cracked a smile before continuing into her earpiece. "For those of you who have been with us, I celebrate having had the chance to know you and work with you over the weeks, months, and years," she continued warmly. "For those of you who are just arriving, I celebrate for you as well. It will be good to have family here on Atlantis. Especially with all of our new couples!"

At that point, Elizabeth paused in her speech, which she happened to be giving from atop a parked puddlejumper that Rodney had landed at the end of the pier when she had asked if he could procure a platform for them to stand on, and gave an ostentatious wink to a few of the individuals of which she was speaking. After making the announcement about the new, relaxed fraternization code, couples had sprung up all over Atlantis like summer daisies, some of which surprised Elizabeth, but most of which did not. Morale had, understandably, shot through the roof in light of the new announcements.

"For this, I would like to thank our wonderful psychologist, Dr. Heightmeyer," Elizabeth pointed out. She didn't know where the woman was, given the size of the crowd, but the nod to the doctor was received with a polite smattering of applause regardless. "But tonight, there is also something else that I wish to celebrate; something that isn't so much a change in policy, but rather an acknowledgement of the spirit that we have always been aware of, and never formally embraced. I received word upon the arrival of the _Apollo_ and the _Daedalus_ that, as of twelve days ago on December 7, we are _officially_ the Earth colony of Atlantis. We are no longer just citizens of Canada or America or England or China or Switzerland or France: we are _Lantean_ citizens, should we choose to accept."

At this point, she looked to her left and accepted the bead that she had asked Teyla to hold for her. It was tied tightly to a neat black string, so that it wouldn't get lost, but Elizabeth planned to braid it into her hair at a later date. Proudly, she thrust the bright purple bead, made of the Lapis Lantea, high above her head so that all could see. (Or, for those people too far away to see much, so they might notice the fact that she was holding _something_ above her head.) "This," she proclaimed through the speakers to the curious members of her expedition, "is more than just a decoration. It is a symbol of who we are. All of those who choose to become citizens of the Earth colony Atlantis will receive a Lapis bead, into which their identification will eventually be programmed." It was true. After having the idea for this back when she was at the SGC, Elizabeth had gone straight to Rodney and inquired after the practical uses of the Lapis Lantea in the small quantities she was considering. The scientist had scoffed and told her that the stone-bound crystal dust, while pretty, couldn't store more than, say, ten words in binary, depending upon the specific sample. Luckily for them, nothing more than a name and ID number was required for Elizabeth's idea, and everyone involved had happily gone into action.

With great care, Elizabeth tied the bead around her own neck, where it hung in full view and in stark contrast to the grey of her uniform. When Teyla graciously handed her the small bowl of beads that she had requisitioned for the senior staff, it was to Teyla that she offered the first one, in full view of the entirety of the Atlantis expedition. The Athosians had been with them since the beginning, and it was Elizabeth's personal opinion that they were citizens of Atlantis just as much as the Taur'i were. Though she knew that her superiors would be upset with the entire situation –a formal request to downplay the existence of their status of colony had accompanied the announcement— she couldn't help but take what Earth had given her and run with it, as they were unlikely to ever have such a chance again. And if nothing else, Elizabeth sought to set a precedent: to show the powers of Earth that while they could colonize as many planets as they liked, they could never smother their spirit.

To thundering applause, Teyla accepted Elizabeth's offer. The two completed the Athosian tradition of touching foreheads to express their mutual respect as John followed Teyla's example and took a bead as Elizabeth offered it, as did Rodney, Carson, and Ronon (the big man was visibly touched that Elizabeth considered him senior staff, though he tried not to show it). Chuck, Amelia, and a few other assorted nurses and technicians began to weave their way through the crowd as well, each holding a bowl filled with the plain little beads, which the Athosians had happily crafted for them. Elizabeth was pleased to observe several of the Athosians taking the beads as well.

Returning to her speech, Elizabeth waved for quiet. "As you all know, many of us will be leaving to complete a very important mission tomorrow," she stated soberly. "As you also know, it is not outside the realm of possibility that some of us may not be returning." Silence had once again spread its sweeping embrace over the entire East pier. "But if we die tomorrow, or next week, or even next year, we won't die as employees or explorers. We will die as Lanteans, defending our Mother world, ourselves, and our two galaxies because we are _more_ than just the residents of Atlantis. We _are_ Atlantis. We are hope for the future and the saviors of the innocent. When the residents of this universe look at us, they will not see scavengers or imposters or a small group of people looking out for their own. They will see the City of Light and all she protects and stands for. They will see _Lanteans_, and they will see no less!" By the time she finished, Elizabeth's voice had risen to a near shout and was rough with emotion. And for one horrible moment, Elizabeth feared that her audience had not liked her speech.

But their lack of response was not disapproval. Rather, it was as if all of Atlantis was holding its breath, savoring the poignant moment, and when that breath was released, it wasn't as if the weight of two galaxies' worth of stars had been added to their world, but lifted. They were Lanteans, and not even the powers of Earth had dared try to take that away.

The applause didn't die out for a long, long while.

* * *

Go find Specialist Browne, he said. It shouldn't take you long, he said.

Yeah. Right.

The plan to destroy the replicators had actually been going exactly as they wanted it to… for a short time. John and his team, as well as a hefty portion of the marines and field-trained scientists, had gone with Colonel Caldwell on the _Daedalus_ to take on the replicator planet, Asura, while Elizabeth and another contingent of Lantean personnel had boarded the _Apollo_ with Colonel Ellis to destroy the shipyard planet. The two planets were just close enough that the two ships could each send short, coded bursts of information through the long-range communications system to the other to update them on their progress. Anything more detailed was potentially risky, but it was enough to know that the _Daedalus_ had made the journey to just outside of the range of the replicators' long-range sensors, just as the _Apollo_ had. Both sets of Jumpers –each set having six of the little ships retrofitted with ARGs and two loaded with secondary satellites—cloaked and departed, positioning themselves around their respective planets.

The problem arose on Elizabeth's end of the dual attack. Two of the replicator ships, Aurora-class, had already been completed. According to what the Jumper pilots around the shipyard planet relayed to the bridge of the _Apollo_, where Elizabeth was seated in the back and out of the way, the two ships were in orbit around the planet and seemed to be fully operational.

This was a big problem.

So, they had done the only thing that they could do, which was to lure the ships away from the planet and destroy them before they could take out the ARGs, or worse, escape. Colonel Ellis had just been pleased that he would be able to test the new Horizon weapons platform after all.

Taking a small jump to the planet, the _Apollo_ had burst from its hyperspace window with guns blazing, damaging the two ships' hyperdrives so that they were confined to sub-light speeds an anything else they could hit before turning right back around and taking another short jump through subspace. The replicator ships had followed at top sub-light speed, and the three ships were soon engaged in battle. With the ships out of the way, the order had been given for the jumpers around the planet to begin their attack. It would distract the replicators on the ships, Ellis had told her.

Elizabeth hadn't had much first-had experience with space battles, but she couldn't delude herself that the fight was going well, as she had nearly given herself a concussion on a nearby computer console as the bridge quaked with the force of the replicator drones hitting the shield, which was rapidly failing. But once she had steadied herself, she could see from her vantage point behind Ellis' chair that the area surrounding the _Apollo_ was choked with the bright glow of drones and the flash of the _Apollo_'s bombs and the metal bodies of all of the numerous F-302s and puddlejumpers that they could muster. Surprisingly, the smaller ships were proving quite effective at both simultaneously inflicting damage upon the replicator ships and shooting down most of the drones intended for the _Apollo_ or the bombs that they were directing towards the enemy ships.

However, they couldn't shield them from everything, and it was one particularly damaging impact that had sent Elizabeth off on her current quest. A disturbingly large cascade of sparks had erupted dangerously near her head, and the woman manning one of the consoles had shrilled, "_Shields at 60%!_"

"Where're my shields? Get me Specialist Browne on the comm. _now_!" Ellis had shouted in return.

"Communications with Engineering have been down for twenty minutes, sir!"

Fool that she was, Elizabeth had then volunteered to go and find the engineer who was working with the shields. To his credit, Colonel Ellis seemed grateful, and called out to her that the man shouldn't be hard to find.

Well, she'd found him all right.

Still panting from her sprint through the narrow halls of the ship, Elizabeth put her fingers to the neck of the man crushed beneath the fallen beam, trying not to think about the pool of blood that she was standing in. There was no pulse. Not that she had expected there to be. "Bridge, this is Weir," she said coolly, touching the radio at her ear.

Another impact rocked the ship, and the groan of overstressed metal reverberated around the room. Realizing that the small crystal room in which she had found Browne was probably not the safest place she could be, Elizabeth sprinted for the door.

"Weir, this is Bridge, what have you—" the tinny voice of the communications officer sounded in her ear, but Elizabeth never heard the rest of the question. Something else hit the _Apollo_'s shield, more violently this time, and she was thrown to the side, teeth jarring. Another beam twisted to the point of snapping under the strain, and one of the large crystal consoles burst into flames as any small object that happened to be in the room skittered across the floor.

Staggering to her feet, Elizabeth once again made for the door, now enveloped in a billowing cloud of acrid black smoke. Eyes stinging and holding her breath, she punched at the door controls, increasingly frantic as they did not respond. It was only then that Elizabeth remembered that the ship automatically sealed off rooms in which it had detected fires, so that the flames wouldn't spread to the rest of the ship and use up all of the oxygen or, conversely, cook the crew alive. The door was now only accessible from the other side. However, Elizabeth thought that the chances of a rescue team being sent down while a full-scale battle was occurring were dubious at best.

Coughing and gasping, Elizabeth was forced to back away from the door to the hall and the thick, acrid smoke in that corner of the room. Instead, she turned towards a smaller door that she suspected led into the room adjacent to this one. There was less smoke there, but Elizabeth lowered herself to the floor anyways, sucking in the comparatively fresh are while she could. "Bridge, this is Weir," she tried.

Static was the only reply. "Bridge, this is Weir!"

Swearing colorfully in a strange mixture of several languages, (she had officially spent _way_ too much time listening to McKay and Zelenka argue) Elizabeth turned her attention to the door controls. These ones were dead too, but she could breathe and see when trying to circumvent them, unlike the other set. Carefully, she unclipped the small utility tool that she kept at her belt and unscrewed the outer shell of the little panel. The harsh white glow of the crystals inside made her gulp with nerves.

Desperately, she tried to think back to the time that Rodney had showed her how to do this, trying her best not to be distracted by the roar of the flames behind her and the fact that her heart was pounding so hard against her sternum that it was painful. With haste, she selected the crystals she thought she needed and pulled them free, directing a wracking cough into the crook of her elbow as the smoke in the air became thicker. The temperature of the room was rising as well, and her palms were becoming slick with sweat as she began to replace the crystals in a new order.

Nothing happened.

No longer having the air supply to swear, Elizabeth settled for rising to her feet and throwing her full weight against the door in a futile effort to get it to give way. This only caused a few rather painful jars to her shoulder and a renewed fit of coughing, eyes streaming with the poisons of the foul atmosphere. Pulling her shirt over her mouth and nose, she tried again, refusing to give up and die. Black spots danced in her vision. While the material of her red tee filtered out much of the heavy smoke, there simply wasn't enough oxygen left in the room. Hungry flames, which had now spread to another console, had consumed it all.

With panic settling into her mind in full, Elizabeth returned to her failed attempt at opening the door, snatching crystals from their slots and replacing them in no particular order. Much to her surprise, the door actually opened. (She would have to talk to Rodney about that. It was a security risk.) However, the adjacent room did not represent the escape that she had hoped for. If possible, it was filled with even more smoke. A black cloud of it billowed menacingly through the doorway as it opened, thick enough that Elizabeth couldn't even see what was in the other room.

Gasping for air that she knew very well no longer existed, Elizabeth stumbled away, slipping in the pool of Specialist Browne's blood and crashing to the floor, where she continued to scoot away from the thickest of the smoke and towards her last hope: the other door. Before she had even made it halfway across the room, Elizabeth knew that she would never make it. She was suffocating. She couldn't breathe, nor could she see through the desperate tears her eyes were dripping with. Coughing did her no good, but it seemed to be about the only thing she could do as her heart raced painfully and her body seared with heat and a fine mist of blood began to stain the area around her face. For the second time in her life, Elizabeth knew (or had every reason to believe) that she was going to die.

A pang of regret hit her, as she remembered the heated argument that she had had with John just before they left. He hadn't wanted her to go on this mission: insisting that she would be more useful as well as safer if she were to stay on Atlantis. Elizabeth had, of course, disagreed. It was _their_ plan, and she had felt that she should see it through until the end. He had then pleaded with her, admitting that he also had a gut feeling on this one. That it was the mission to take out the replicator shipyard that would make everything fall apart. Elizabeth had laughed this off, telling him that he was being ridiculous, but judging by her current predicament, she had been wrong. What was worse, the last words that she had spoken to John had been spoken in anger.

Pressing her face as close to the hot metal floor, where the air was clearest, as she could, Elizabeth decided that the only positive thought that she could scrounge up was that the _Apollo_ seemed to have won the confrontation. She hadn't felt any impact on the shield since the one that had set off the fires, and seeing as she wasn't dead (yet), she could only assume that the two replicator ships had been destroyed.

Suddenly, her tunneling field of vision was overtaken with a white mist. Looking up, Elizabeth was utterly delighted to see that a group of marines in gas masks had burst through the door. Two had fire extinguishers, which they were aiming at the burning consoles, while four others made for herself and Specialist Browne. Elizabeth's world suffered a lurch as she was lifted unceremoniously and dragged out into the hall, which, thankfully, was not on fire or overrun with smoke. However, Elizabeth's joy was dampened somewhat as she found that she still couldn't breathe. If anything, she felt like she was drowning. Coughing, gasping, and spluttering, she fought for air without much success, only managing to spew out more blood.

A marine had grasped her shoulders and was talking to her. His eyes, which Elizabeth could see through the plastic of his mask were a pleasant dark blue, were wide and his voice was urgent. Frowning, she tried her best to understand him. She really did. But between the sensation of suffocation and the leaden weight of her body, she just couldn't make sense of his words, which were slurring together into unintelligible gibberish in her mind.

Belatedly wishing again that she had listened to John, Elizabeth slumped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Elizabeth _really_ hated waking up in the infirmary. It was never pleasant. She always felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to all of her internal organs and, in this case, poured a bottle of ammonia into her chest cavity.

On the bright side, at least she hadn't woken up alone. Sitting in two nearby chairs and talking quietly to each other were Ronon and Teyla. Seeing her stir, the two quickly stood and moved to her side, smiling. Elizabeth made an attempt to greet them and ask them what had happened, but stopped when she couldn't seem to take a deep enough breath to speak.

Yeah. That hurt.

Luckily, Carson came to her rescue, needle in hand, which he immediately stuck into her IV. "There you are, love. Didn't expect you to wake up for a few more hours, at least," he said. "Hopefully that'll do something for the pain, though I wouldn't recommend that you try and talk for a while yet."

Blinking, Elizabeth nodded before making a feeble attempt to pull the clear rubber oxygen mask from her face. She was immediately thwarted by Teyla's small bronze hand stopping the motion of her own. "Don't, Elizabeth," she scolded her gently.

By now frustrated by her inability to speak, Elizabeth pulled her hand free, turned to Carson, and signed her question at him. He just looked back at her apologetically. "I'm afraid I'm a wee bit rusty," he admitted, referring to her hands with a gesture. "I'll just fetch Dr. Keller."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and waited, noting with gratitude the numbness that was creeping up her arm and with slight horror the awful rattling noise she made with each shallow, sore breath she took. Soon enough, Carson returned, this time with Jennifer in tow. The female doctor shot Elizabeth a charming smile. "Try again," she suggested in her pleasant voice.

Aware that Ronon and Teyla were looking on in fascination from the side, Elizabeth now directed her signs at Keller as best she could while lying down. She too was a little rusty, and was forced to spell out some of the harder words, but knew she was able to be understood. _"What happened with the mission? What day is it? Is everyone ok?"_

For the benefit of the others, Jennifer translated out loud. Teyla, being the most talkative between her and Ronon, chose to answer, tucking a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind one ear. "The mission was a success, Dr. Weir," she relayed. "Your plan with the ARGs worked well. Asura fell, as did the shipyard planet that Earth wanted destroyed, after the _Apollo_ defeated the two completed ships. Asura," Teyla hesitated, but seeing the expectant expression upon Elizabeth's face, continued. "Asura was destroyed," she admitted. "The replicators had just enough time to set their self-destruct before the ARGs built up enough power. We beamed down with Rodney to try and stop it but…" She shook her head. "Even so, the teams we did manage to beam down to extract resources in what little time we had were able to acquire five ZPMs and twelve puddlejumpers."

Seeing as this was definitely better than nothing, Elizabeth nodded her acceptance. _"And the other planet?"_ she signed to Jennifer, who again translated aloud.

Teyla just grinned at her. "The shipyard planet is indeed intact," she informed her. "The replicators were in the process of building a total of six-and-thirty Aurora-class vessels, each powered by a ZPM. Eight appear to be complete, and ten nearly so. The rest are in varying states of assembly, but according to Rodney and Radek, most of the materials needed to complete them had already been gathered on site." She laughed at Elizabeth's expression, which was rather comical as her heart fluttered with excitement over this revelation. Earth would be very, very pleased. "There were a total of twenty-three lost upon the _Apollo,_" Teyla continued, this time with a saddened expression. "Eleven were F-302 pilots, four were jumper pilots, and the others were all crewmembers in the damaged section of the ship."

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she realized that others had met their deaths trapped in smoke-filled rooms, just as she had thought she would. Perhaps a few had been spared though, and crushed by damaged sections of the ship, like poor Specialist Browne. "_And… what happened to _me_?"_ she inquired after a long moment. _"I remember being pulled from the room I was trapped in, but nothing after that."_

"You suffered a respectable bit of damage to your lungs, love," Carson answered after Teyla deferred to him with a look. "They did the best they could for you in the _Apollo_ infirmary, but it was touch-and-go for a while there until the _Daedalus_ rejoined the _Apollo_ at the planet and Colonel Sheppard sent the _Apollo_ back to Atlantis with all of the injured and dead. You've been here for about a day and a half, now."

"Rodney and the science teams are still at the shipyard planet with the _Daedalus_," Teyla threw in, anticipating Elizabeth's next question. "They're attempting to adapt the ships' systems to a human crew and launch the vessels. Colonels Sheppard and Caldwell are establishing the planet as a beta site, and the _Apollo_ will join them once it has completed repairs. Earth has also sent someone in to manage Atlantis during your recovery."

Her splutter of protest subsiding into a rather painful fit of gasping and coughing (Elizabeth was pleased to see that she was no longer coughing up blood), Elizabeth didn't need to sign this time, either.

Gentle brown eyes filling with concern, Jennifer put a cool hand on her arm to steady her as Carson said firmly, "Elizabeth, like it or not, you're _have_ to heal. And healing takes time. I'm putting you on mandatory medical rest for another week, if all goes well, and light duty for at least a week after that. I can't have you running yourself ragged and hurting yourself."

"'Sides. Carter's not that bad. They could've sent Woolsey," Ronon grunted.

The name gave Elizabeth pause. _"Colonel Samantha Carter?"_ she inquired of Keller.

"Yes. And her post here is only temporary. You know that," the young doctor implored.

Colonel Carter. Elizabeth remembered her, from her tumultuous time at the SGC. The brilliant woman, only a couple of years her senior, had only been a Major then, but that hadn't stopped her from blackmailing her into saving the then-Colonel O'Neill's life. It had been infuriating at the time, but now that Elizabeth had experienced Atlantis, she understood Carter's motivations a little better. Even respected her for what she did. They had seen each other since then, and neither seemed to have a problem working with the other.

Elizabeth just hoped that she would take care of her city. _"All right," _Elizabeth signed, conveying her acceptance of the situation. _"Tell her that if she needs anything, she can come and see me. Even if she's just lonely. It will be hard for her to be away from the SGC." _She could only imagine how irritated that Colonel Carter was when she was told she'd have to travel to Pegasus and babysit Atlantis. She knew how much that her, team, SG-1, meant to her and how angry she must be to have been separated from them. Elizabeth felt a strange need to apologize for that. She knew that if she were pulled away from Atlantis, even for another command, she'd be crawling up one wall and down the other, out-of-her-mind crazy.

God shield Carson from her wrath born of simply being confined to bed-rest.

* * *

_And that's a wrap. So, I've got a question. I thought of giving the Sam/Jack relationship a cameo, but I know that not everyone is into that pairing. Thoughts?_


	12. New Ways of Speaking

_Well, here I am again. With an _extra long_ chapter, I might add. (No autographs, please.) Since I got so many people rooting for a Sam/Jack cameo, it's in here, as promised. It's subtle, but there will be more of it continued into next chapter, because I decided I liked it.  
__I also included a tidbit about what happened at '237, because so many of you were curious. A little taste. To tease you with. Because I am evil that way. (Muahaha!)  
__Again, I must shamelessly beg for reviews. Feedback makes writing a _whole_ lot easier. Really. I swear it on my little brother's life! (You know, when he's being kind of less annoying so that I feel like his life isn't going to end by my hands.) So please, leave me a little note. Especially if you want to tell me I suck!_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 12  
New Ways of Speaking

* * *

As it turned out, Sam was Elizabeth's saving grace. After originally regaining consciousness in the Atlantis infirmary, she spent the remainder of the day drifting in and out of sleep. But the day after that, after having shamelessly begged Carson to allow her to go back to her quarters, which he agreed to under the conditions that she stay in bed, avoid working, wear her oxygen mask, and receive checkups from either Dr. Keller or himself every six hours, she was unbelievably bored. With Sam taking over as temporary custodian of Atlantis, there was a frustrating lack of paperwork to be done: not that she didn't try to hijack any bit of paperwork she could get her hands on through her laptop. She couldn't do anything physical, either, restricted as she was to quick, shallow breaths that barely provided enough fuel for her body to function, even with the oxygen mask. (Her lungs were stiff, sore, and still somewhat rattling with fluid, and it was very a very painful experience to take a full breath. At first, Elizabeth found this very concerning, but Carson had assured her that this was to be expected as the delicate inner tissue of her lungs recovered after the damage inflicted by the harsh particulates of the smoke given off by the burning of the crystal technology. She decided to trust him at his word, and not worry too much about it.) Much to Elizabeth's relief, the short trek from her bed to the bathroom, or the bed to the chair by the window, was not out of her reach. Yet they always left her lightheaded and dizzy, and still just as bored.

A day of mandatory medical rest, and she was already prepared to do some serious begging or rule-breaking just to escape the monotony.

This was where Sam came in, inadvertently (or, perhaps, entirely intentionally) saving Elizabeth from herself. It was the beginning of the second long, agonizing day, and Dr. Keller had just left the room after checking her over and leading her in trying a few experimental deeper breaths. Her chest had protested firmly, searing like liquid fire, but Elizabeth _had_ felt better after the fact, and Jennifer promised her that they would work on it after all of their checkups. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, resigning herself to her miserable fate of death by immobility, but started right back up when her door chimes sounded.

Still unable to gather up enough breath to speak with any volume or for any length of time, Elizabeth sat there, unsure of what to do. Normally, she would get up and answer the door, or just yell at them to come in, but at this point, neither option really appealed to her. With a sigh, Elizabeth decided that she should just suck it up and got to her feet, pulling the annoying mask from her face as she did so.

It took a little longer than she would have liked, but Elizabeth managed to reach the door in a respectable amount of time. It opened to reveal an uncomfortable Sam, who was shifting from foot to foot and fiddling with the zipper on her uniform and a pocket on the side of a black messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Seeing her, Elizabeth fitted a pleasant smile to her face, unsure what she needed. Still, she wasn't about to be rude to her first visitor that wasn't a part of the medical team. She stood to one side and signed for the other woman to come in, although, she thought belatedly, she had no idea if she understood sign language or not.

Still, Sam seemed to get the idea, and she stepped inside calmly. "It's good to see you up and about, Dr. Weir," she said as the door hissed closed behind her.

"_I think you can call me Elizabeth, Colonel Carter," _Elizabeth signed, carefully making her way back to the bed. She lowered herself, sitting on its edge and pulling the oxygen mask back over her head. The oxygen feed was immediately relieving, and Elizabeth closed her eyes for a few moments while she took a few quick breaths to recover. _"What was it you needed? I'll be glad to help," _she told the Colonel, who was standing and still managing to look like she felt uncomfortable.

"I heard that you wouldn't be doing much talking, and I never learned sign language, so, I brought this with me, if you don't mind too terribly, Dr. Weir," she said, producing a small notepad and a ballpoint pen.

Smiling a little at Carter's practical mind, Elizabeth nodded and accepted the writing utensils. Seeing that the woman was still standing, she patted the mattress beside her, not removing her gaze from her face until she obeyed and sat. Satisfied, Elizabeth clicked her pen and started scribbling onto the first page of the little notepad. _"You may call me Elizabeth, and I'm glad to see you Colonel Carter,"_ she wrote. _"I hadn't had the chance to thank you for what you're doing. How can I help you?"_

"Well, Elizabeth, you can start by calling _me_ Sam," the woman replied, upon reading what Elizbeth had written. "And I just had a few questions, nothing major. I actually thought you might be going a little stir-crazy cooped up in here. I would be. I had a little time off before my meetings; so, I guess a better question would be how can _I_ help_ you_? Perhaps a little Solitaire?" A mischievous expression crossing her face, Sam reached into her bag and withdrew a data pad, which Elizabeth immediately recognized as her own. Carson had confiscated it, suspicious that she would try and use it to try and work. Sam, holding it in her hands, had unlocked the screen, revealing her unfinished game of Solitaire, which was her infamous favorite distraction.

Elizabeth grinned, probably looking a bit like a kid on Christmas. _"I guess my guilty pleasure really _is_ as infamous as John says it is!" _she wrote quickly, before taking the data pad, still smiling. _"How did you get it?" _she then added, setting the data pad to one side. _"Carson seems hell-bent on killing me with boredom."_

"Playing Solitaire is the first thing Rodney accused me of doing when I started messing with my data pad during one of his rants, even though it was via video conference," Sam admitted. "As for how I got it… the CMO at the SGC was my best friend for years. She taught me her ways. If you know what you're doing, you can become the queen of the infirmary."

Elizabeth nodded in understanding and regarded the woman sitting next to her with slight awe, making a mental note to have her tell her about these 'ways' at some point. It seemed like a useful skill set. Instead, she settled for moving the conversation along. _"Thank you, Sam. You've just made my life somewhat bearable," _she jotted in her neat, chiseled print. _"The only visitor I've had is Dr. Keller, and she won't keep me in the loop. How are the operations at the shipyard planet proceeding? Is Atlantis running on three ZPMs now? What staff is Earth sending to crew the new ships?"_

Smiling softly, blue eyes sparking a bit, Sam took the opportunity to launch right in to all of the details of how the ships were similar, and dissimilar, to the Aurora and the Orion. She updated Elizabeth on how the integration with the human tech was going (which was slowly: apparently Rodney was having fits) and the projections for their ability to complete the incomplete ships. What's more, Sam actually pulled out her own data pad and opened the list of personnel that had been requested as a preliminary estimate by both the science teams and military members for both manning their new beta site and the eight completed ships, as well as the power consummation readings now that Atlantis had once again been supplied with a full complement ZPMs.

Thinking about work was unbelievably comforting, and Elizabeth found herself forgetting, just for a moment, that she was trapped in her own quarters by her own body. It was glorious.

But all too soon, Sam glanced at her watch and jumped. "Holy Hannah, I'm late!" she exclaimed, scrambling for her data pad and stuffing it into her messenger bag as she stood. "I'm so sorry I couldn't stay longer Dr. We—Elizabeth. I just…" She gestured helplessly, and Elizabeth dragged up a happy smile.

Snatching up the notepad, she wrote quickly, _"It's all right. I'm just glad you came. Thank you," _and held it up.

"Next time I have a free moment," Sam promised in return, giving her a bright, dimpled smile before she turned and burst out the door in a borderline undignified jog towards the transporter at the end of the hall.

Elizabeth watched her go, and then immediately resumed her game of Solitaire.

* * *

Apparently, Elizabeth had been pathetic enough to warrant Sam sending down more visitors. Not that she was complaining.

Her next one showed up just about four hours later. This time, the ring of the chimes woke Elizabeth from a cat-nap (she was sleeping quite a bit during this recovery) and she answered the door while still scrubbing her eyes blearily. Major Lorne was on the other side, left arm in a sling. He appeared a bit sheepish, and his discomfort made Elizabeth suddenly glad that she had insisted that she dress in her normal attire, despite the fact that she wasn't allowed to leave the room.

"I uh… I got shot, ma'am," Major Lorne blurted, seeing her expectant expression.

Elizabeth blinked, mildly alarmed.

"Dr. Beckett took care of it right away, honest," the man explained hastily. "Just ran into a few Genii offworld today. But I've been taken off active duty for the next couple days and Colonel Carter mentioned that you seemed bored, so…" he trailed off, still looking uncertain as Elizabeth just stared at him. "If you're busy, I understand. But if you'd like, I can teach you to paint."

Paint? Elizabeth blinked again. She didn't know that Lorne could paint. Nor did she understand why he had suddenly offered to teach her. He was far closer to John than he was to her, even though she did consider him a friend.

Elizabeth guessed that this was Sam's doing.

However, why look a gift horse in the mouth? If Lorne was here, kindly offering to relieve her boredom, why not say yes? It's not like a better offer would come any time soon.

Elizabeth finally nodded, allowing an uncertain smile to cross her face, and stood aside so that Lorne could come in. Padding across the room to her bedside table, she fitted her mask back to her face (No need to give Lorne an excuse to tattle to Beckett.) and hauled the little oxygen tank over to her window. Her padded chair was already situated there, and this she left for her guest as she rolled her less comfortable desk chair into the cool glow of the window as well, so that they could sit next to each other. Elizabeth gestured for Lorne to take his seat as she grabbed the notepad that Sam had left for her and returned, plopping herself down into the rolling chair and taking a moment to recover.

She watched with curiosity as the man situated a little easel in front of her, complete with a small canvas and a palette of paints and brushes that he sat in her lap. "That should do it," he muttered to himself approvingly before quickly setting his own station up as well, although with a greater (and, Elizabeth suspected, more expensive) variety of paints and brushes and a larger canvas upon which to paint.

With surprising patience, the Major showed her how to hold a brush and to apply the paint. He spoke at great length about the different uses for the different shapes and sizes of the brushes, and about how the play of light and shadows in her painting would be almost as important as the object or objects she chose to portray. It was fascinating to listen to, and Elizabeth paid rapt attention to every detail. Throughout her life, she had never been much inclined towards the arts, the only exception being that she had been a talented dancer when she was very young. A knee injury had shattered that dream, though, and she had never participated in a similar creative activity again.

Sitting in silence now, making her first fumbling attempts at a painting while Major Lorne began to illustrate what appeared to be Atlantis, seen from afar and through a screen of rain, at her side, Elizabeth wondered if perhaps this had been a mistake. She wasn't even close to being as good as Lorne, but she was enjoying herself immensely, catching herself grinning at her paint-smeared hands. She'd had no idea that Lorne could paint, but she was very glad that he had decided to share his talent with her, even if it was under duress from Sam.

* * *

For the next two days, Elizabeth almost always had someone visiting her. Amelia Banks showed up once, bearing pilfered doughnuts and all of the latest gossip from the control room, as did Radek Zelenka, although he wasn't as entertaining because he was usually behind on the latest news, being down in the labs most of the time. Still, the game of chess was welcome. Teyla and Ronon had joined another offworld team for the time being, and could only stop by briefly due to their busy schedules, but they did make a definite effort. Lorne came back too, armed with watercolor paints this time, and Sam—Sam showed up both days, although not for very long.

However, it was during her evening visit on the second day that the _Daedalus_ returned.

She and Sam were discussing the possibilities of how many of the replicator ships they had commandeered that Earth would allow to stay in the Pegasus galaxy, over twin cups of Athosian tea: a quiet evening. Elizabeth had forsaken the uniform that she had worn all day for a more comfortable set of yoga pants and a red tank top, and she was able to gather enough breath to talk a bit now, although she still relied heavily on the notepad. Dr. Keller had brought her a ration of chocolate during her last check-up, so the two women were now sharing it, occasionally breaking off a piece mid-conversation and gulping it down happily. (Sam was far more at ease around her now, and she admitted that Elizabeth's changed appearance had thrown her off at first, but she had gotten used to it fairly quickly.)

"Hey, do you mind if I use your restroom?" Sam asked, after a healthy few minutes of squirming in her seat and making a couple of very interesting faces.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, deadpanned, but couldn't keep a straight face for more than a few moments and ended up smirking instead.

Sam just rolled her big blue eyes and marched off into the bathroom.

Elizabeth sat back into her pillows, enjoying the quiet. She loved Sam, but she was very tired, and the momentary reprieve was nice. No matter how much she slept, she woke feeling just as exhausted as she had when she had gone to sleep, and she could never seem to catch her breath. It was irritating.

It was at this point that the door to the hallway opened without warning, revealing a rather shaggy-looking John who was carrying a tray of what appeared to be lemon chicken.

Elizabeth sat up immediately, a delighted smile splitting her face. She hadn't known that either the _Deadalus _or _Apollo _was due to return to Atlantis, but the surprise was most definitely a welcome one. She had missed John desperately, although she had done her best to ignore that fact when he was gone. However, now that he was here…

"John," she gasped aloud, trying to tug off her mask (which she was still forced to wear by her tyrant CMO, except when she was sleeping) while simultaneously trying to disentangle herself from her sheets so she could go to him. The last time they had seen each other was when they had fought about her participation on the replicator mission, and she had yelled at him. After her near-death experience, during which she had realized that he had been right, she deeply regretted not listening to him, and wanted to make sure he knew that.

Her efforts nearly made her topple from the bed. Thankfully, John was at her side in what seemed like an instant, placing the tray on her bedside table, seating himself on the edge of the bed, and using his freed hands to steady her and firmly press her mask back in place. "You have no idea how beautiful it is to see you alive, 'Lizabeth. We thought we might lose you, for a while there," he breathed, allowing his hands to fall to her shoulders.

Deciding that it would be next to impossible to force out 'I'm glad I'm alive too,' Elizabeth settled for the alternative, leaned forward, and embraced her friend. "I'm sorry," she confessed in a small voice, reveling in the warmth of his body.

Her words melted away John's startled stiffness in an instant, and he hugged her fiercely. His grip was almost uncomfortably tight, but Elizabeth knew that she wouldn't have it any other way. This, she decided, was where she belonged. She had always been a great believer in the power of words: they could serve as an instrument of destruction or of creation, love or hatred, knowledge or ignorance… anything. But it was John Sheppard who had proved to her that some things, words could not adequately express. Not in the way that action could. She couldn't say to him, or even write down, everything that she was feeling right now. Some of it, she couldn't, or wouldn't, even identify if she tried. The only thing she felt could express her joy at seeing him again was to hold him tighter. He would understand, and she wouldn't have to say a thing.

"Never do that to me again, all right? I was a wreck until we got word back you'd live," John murmured into her hair.

Elizabeth just nodded mutely, burying her head into his shoulder as she felt a hot tear slip down her cheek. It wouldn't do for Sam to see her cry.

Sam!

With a jolt, Elizabeth remembered that she and John weren't alone in her quarters. But when she raised her eyes to look for her, Elizabeth realized that she had already gone. The door to her bathroom had been left open, and the messenger bag had disappeared off of the back of Sam's chair. Clever girl. Elizabeth wasn't sure if she was grateful or mortified.

After a few more heartbeats, John released her and folded his hands in his lap, watching quietly Elizabeth reached for the ever-useful notepad, knowing that she wanted to say a lot more than she could trust her aching lungs with. (As much as it would kill Rodney for her to admit it, Elizabeth had to hand it to Sam: she was a genius.) _"What are you doing back so soon?"_ she wrote, finding it hard to take her eyes off of John, as if he might evaporate if she turned away. _"I thought that you were still on the planet, with Rodney and the science teams?"_

"Landry's sending over a whole new crop of specialists. You know, to tide us over until we formally request new personnel," he sighed, flopping backwards across her feet. "The _Daedalus _needed to come back to pick them up, when they arrive, so I came along for the ride. I need to take care of a few things here, and I also kind of wanted to shower in a stall that's wider than two feet."

"I take it's—going well, then," Elizabeth commented, not bothering with the notepad this time. Her voice was weak and her phrase punctuated by a pause to catch her breath, but it could be heard.

"Fairly, yes," John agreed, sitting back up again and turning to face her. "Once you're well again, you should come and see the shipyard." The same wondrous grin that had lit his face when he had first seen the puddlejumpers was making a reappearance. "It's amazing. Kind of seems like it goes on forever: the only thing you can see around you are these massive ships. We can only hope that Rodney can get a few of them up and running before the Wraith figure out we've got them and blow the shipyard off the face of the planet," he finished wryly.

Elizabeth gazed at him soberly. They both knew it was a possibility. That was why the _Apollo_ or _Daedalus_ or both were always in orbit around the planet: ready to beam their people to safety at a moment's notice or, alternately, defend their position against any attackers.

Obviously trying to lighten the mood, John poked her in the arm. "Did I tell you what I named the eight ships that Rodney says he can hotwire?"

Scooting over a bit so that there was enough room for John to join her sitting against the headboard, Elizabeth shook her head, traces of amusement already showing around the corners of her mouth and eyes.

Accepting the offer and fitting himself into the space she had made, their arms brushing, John grinned his little boy grin in anticipation. "I think you'll like them," he promised. "We don't have paint yet, so I just had the new kid, Lt. Philabaum, write the names on the sides with chalk," he confessed, "but it works just the same. We kind of stuck with the Greek theme. The _Calliope, _the _Clio_, the _Erato_, the _Euterpe, _the _Polyhymnia, _the _Terpsichore, _the _Thalia, _and the _Urania._"

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully, recognizing the names of eight of the nine muses: goddesses of the arts. "Melpomene?" she inquired, wondering why this last muse had been selected for exclusion.

"The goddess of tragedies," John laughed. "That's the ship that's the next closest to being finished. It's far more complete than the other unnamed ones, but not entirely, like the other eight. It's kind of our red-headed stepchild," he explained, affection coloring his voice. "The one we named _Calliope_ is Rodney's baby. She'll be taking off first, I think."

At this, Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh gently. Calliope was the leader of the nine muses. She wasn't surprised that the name had conveniently befallen Rodney's favorite ship, although it set her to wondering which ship was _John's_ favorite. The question was posed in the form of an arched eyebrow.

"The _Thalia_," John answered, understanding perfectly. "Goddess of comedy!" His tone suggested that this was the only logical answer, and that he was surprised that she hadn't figured it out on her own.

Yeah. She'd missed him.

For a few contented minutes, they didn't say anything else. Instead, they sat quietly, and Elizabeth, at least, was enjoying the company. She'd never run out of things to talk about, when she was with him, but again, he'd also shown her that talking wasn't always necessary. This was another one of those moments. Mesmerized by the quiet, Elizabeth was startled when she felt John take her cool hand in his warm, rough one. To her credit, she didn't jump, but merely let him do so, tightening her grip ever so slightly. It was wonderful –simple, easy, and heartwarming—and they stayed that way for a long, long while, occasionally breaking the silence with happy chatter or munching on the food that John had brought with him into her room. John had more than a few hilarious stories about Rodney's hissy-fits over the ships. The replicators had built in several extraneous systems, for some reason, like life support and plumbing and such, but had left out others, like kitchens or showers, and it apparently drove her head scientist mad. John said that they still couldn't figure out what had happened when, one time, they found Rodney where he had gotten himself trapped in a storage cabinet, covered in a strange pink fluid. The man hadn't wanted to talk about it, and had avoided the main weapons locker and the tava bean rations for days.

Well. That was her Rodney, without a doubt.

Elizabeth loved the new stories. She would have stayed up all night with John, listening to him speak and talking back when she could. But eventually, he had to leave.

"I promised Carson that I'd leave you to sleep at 9:30, 'Lizabeth," he stated, releasing her hand and chuckling a little as she gave him a poor imitation of his own puppy eyes.

"'M not a child…" Elizabeth muttered, but she slipped obediently between her sheets either way, pulling the irritating mask from her face, closing off the valve on the portable tank, and tossing the offensive bit of clear rubber away.

"No, you're far more stubborn," John ceded, deftly avoiding her halfhearted swat at his arm as he stood. "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early," he promised with a cocky grin.

Elizabeth shot him a skeptical look. "'M not—a morning—person," she pointed out softly, coughing into a fist but not breaking her glare.

"I've cowered through more than one of your early morning meetings to know that very well," John assured her, evil grin still in place. Quickly, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her temple, letting them linger for a heartbeat before pulling away. "Sleep well," he instructed her, voice losing its gruff edge as he straightened slowly. "Beckett can smell it if you lie."

With that, he strode from the room, shutting off the lights with his mind and leaving Elizabeth lying in the dark, gazing after him and wishing, insanely, that she'd turned her head at the last moment to capture his lips with hers. The urge to call him back was surprisingly powerful.

This disturbed her.

Squirming in a futile and rather unnecessary effort to get comfortable, Elizabeth snagged at her lip with her teeth and stared, glassy-eyed, at the ceiling. A wave of shame and guilt washed over her and her chin trembled in its wake. John was her friend. He was very good to her, and Elizabeth didn't honestly know what she'd do if that were to come to an end. There was a danger, sometimes a very significant one, of him dying every day, and the fact that she had wanted to _kiss_ him and jeopardize their relationship despite the risk of its potential brevity made her want to kick herself. Elizabeth was only human. It had taken her all of two seconds after meeting John Sheppard to decide that he was a very attractive man: the messy hair just about killed her. However, she also knew that they needed to work together, and that now, they needed to maintain their friendship, which was far more valuable to her than almost anything. What was worse, the frat regs (along with her best excuse) were gone now, and she was painfully aware of that. But she shied away from taking the plunge and opening a door she couldn't close. Something like that… well, it could end their friendship very quickly, if it didn't work out. There was no guarantee that John even saw her that way, and Elizabeth didn't know if she could cope if he rejected her, much less became just another ex-boyfriend.

And yet… the selfish part of her that was so often repressed was taking her 'John-is-back-I'm-so-happy'-induced momentary weakness and screaming to be heard. If Elizabeth was being honest with herself, she _did_ want more than friendship with him. It was a selfish, impossible, and childish thought, but it was true.

Admitting that to herself really didn't make Elizabeth feel better, especially after taking the mental equivalent of a cold shower and telling herself to pull it together and give up the entire foolhardy thought. She knew full well that she would never put her friendship with John on the line –not when it was one of the best things that had ever happened to her, aside from Atlantis—but it still hurt. It also hurt that Elizabeth felt like she was turning in circles, experiencing the same emotional problems over and over again in an infinite loop of frustration and sadness.

"God _damn_ it, John," she swore to the emptiness of her room. No one answered. Fitfully, she rolled onto her side and tried to sleep.

* * *

Tongue peeking out from between her pursed lips as she focused, Elizabeth lowered her brush to the thick paper and made a few stokes, frowning critically at the results. She still wasn't very good, but the watercolors were turning out better than the acrylics had, at least. This was the first time that she had tried to paint without Major Lorne there to help her, and so far, she hadn't managed to seriously mutilate the poor painting, so she thought she must be doing all right.

The door chimes went off, and Elizabeth looked up, puzzled. She knew that her visitor wasn't John. After he had walked her down to the cafeteria to get some real food that morning, minus her oxygen mask, which she had refused to wear outside of her room, he had taken her to the infirmary and placed her in Carson's care, because he had to be present for the dial-in from Earth. Elizabeth had argued bitterly that she should be allowed to greet the new arrivals, but John wouldn't hear of it after she had to stop talking and focus on breathing a few times. The loss of the argument had left her in a stormy mood, so Carson had graciously agreed to let her lose the aggravating oxygen mask, given her one of the lollipops he saved for the children (lime-flavored: her favorite), and sent her back to her quarters to cool off.

However, seeing as most of her staff was busy, as John was, with settling the newbies after their night at the Midway Station (now fully operational), Elizabeth didn't know who would be at her door.

Wiping her multicolored hands dry on her pants, Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, directing a rattling cough into her elbow, and went to the door. "Sam," she exclaimed breathlessly as she saw who her visitor was. "Thought you'd be with…" Elizabeth trailed off breathlessly, knowing that Sam would know that she meant the new Earth recruits.

Curiously, the blonde Colonel once again appeared supremely uncomfortable, and was once again fiddling with the zipper on her uniform jacket, which was emblazoned with twin streaks of command red, just as Elizabeth's was. But she dutifully picked up on Elizabeth's loose thought. "I haven't been here much longer than they have," she pointed out. "Pretty much introduced myself, told them to expect you in a few days, and cleared out. Listen, can I… can I talk to you?"

"Certainly," Elizabeth responded, a little worried now. Turning back inside, she headed straight for the chairs by the window, scooting the rolling one away from the easel that Lorne had been kind enough to lend her and moving it closer to the armchair so she and Sam could talk. "You look upset," she commented as she sat down, Sam mimicking her movements.

"Uh… yes," the other woman replied, tucking a few errant strands of blonde hair behind her ears. Her bright blue eyes were wandering around and focusing everywhere but on Elizabeth's face. "These are pretty. Did you do them?" she asked suddenly, picking up two of Elizabeth's small canvases, which she had placed on the floor.

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to feel uncomfortable. "Uh… yes," she echoed, reaching to take them back. "I'm afraid they're—not very good," she confessed, pausing in the middle of the phrase for a short, gasping breath, and looking at them self-consciously once they were in her hands.

The first was painted with acrylics, and depicted a sad old willow tree that had been hunkered in the corner of her back yard as a child. It was knotted and ancient and somewhat creepy, but Elizabeth had loved to read beneath its shade, a usually absurdly large book balanced precariously on her knobby little knees. The painting didn't do the old tree justice—not really. Lorne had told her it was an excellent first start though, and Elizabeth was just pleased it was recognizable as a tree.

The second painting was watercolor, painted onto some stiff paper that reminded Elizabeth of cardboard. It had turned out far better than the painting of the willow, but Elizabeth wasn't sure if that was because she did better with watercolors or if this memory was more vivid. Probably both. She had illustrated the temple at M51-237: the moment when the glowing orb had appeared above the pedestal for the first time. Most of her effort had been spent upon the orb itself, streaking it with the delicate pinks and blues around the edges that had so enchanted her at first glance. The surrounding temple was a simple wash of dark brown, and the men that had died mere black shadows against the walls. In fact, the only other detail in the painting was the medallion on the back wall: the one which, when touched, had unleashed the orb. Elizabeth had done this in unimposing black as well, simply tracing the pattern that had been upon its surface, partially obscured by the shadowy hand of one of the doomed figures.

"That's M51-237, isn't it?" Sam guessed, gesturing to the watercolor painting.

Elizabeth just nodded mutely, staring at it. After painting the scene, she hadn't really been able to bring herself to look at it again until now, and something about it was nagging at her. Frowning she handed it back to Sam, who had been eyeing it curiously. "That's it. A—fairly accurate—representation of—what we saw," she whispered.

"Fascinating…" Sam breathed, examining it closely. "It looks almost like an ascended being, you know? But an ascended being wouldn't have been able to affect our plane of existence like it did. The others would have stopped it… Is that…" She hesitated, brushing a pale finger over the outline of the temple medallion and letting incredulity color her voice. "Is that the pattern we used to ARG the replicator planets? Dreamwave amplification theory?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened and her heartbeat quickened. "Yes. It is!" she exclaimed, finally realizing what had been bothering her. "The pattern I—dreamed about for days!"

"You saw it in the temple," the blonde murmured. "Wow."

"What does it mean?" Elizabeth asked, fear clawing at her. Not only had she returned from the mission on M51-237 four men shorter and fifteen years younger, but she had returned one creepy anti-replicator weapon stronger and hadn't even known it. Certainly she, and everyone else, had suspected that her and John's sudden inspiration had been directly linked to the '237 mission, but until now, it hadn't been confirmed. Elizabeth wondered how Anna and the other archeologists had missed it.

"I… I don't know what it means," Sam admitted, frowning and placing the painting back onto the floor. "But it doesn't change anything. You're no more or less potentially compromised as you were when you stepped back through the 'gate, and so far, you've done us nothing but good. Just think. If you hadn't gone to M51-237, none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have been able to stop the _Apollo_ from nuking the shipyard planet. We wouldn't have gained anything but time for Earth from the mission, and who _knows_ how the replicators would have retaliated against Atlantis!"

Fears somewhat eased, Elizabeth nodded slowly. Despite the deaths of the four marines, good things _had_ come from that fiasco: their gains against the replicators, certainly, and also an increased closeness between her and John. She still felt that she was personally reprehensible for the fate of her men, but for the first time, Elizabeth allowed herself a little innocence too. It had been an accident, after all, even if she _had_ failed her people. And maybe… maybe she was starting to make it up to them. "Thank you, Sam," she said softly, bowing her head. "Thank you."

"Hey, what are temporary replacements for?" Sam replied lightly. "Cheer up. I'll even email you pep talks from the SGC when I leave, if you need them. You can thank me _then_."

Elizabeth grinned at her. "Don't tempt me," she laughed. She was reduced to a mild coughing fit within moments, but Elizabeth's happiness and relief didn't fade. However, her outward expression was soon overshadowed by a light frown. "But… you came here to—talk to me and we—never even got—around to it," she gasped, faintly horrified. Sam had seemed pretty upset when she had opened the door. They hadn't even gotten around to discussing what was bothering her! Elizabeth, as a diplomat, knew a diversion tactic when she saw one, and felt a little ashamed that she had allowed Sam to change the subject so quickly after arriving, even though their resulting talk had been enormously beneficial.

"It's okay," Sam said quickly. "I've never… talked to anyone about this."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.

Sam just grimaced at her. "Look, I just had a question. About the gate tech, Chuck?"

Increasingly curious, Elizabeth nodded for Sam to continue.

Having now reverted back to being extremely uncomfortable with the situation, the other woman was once again finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. "Say that he saw something that could potentially look… very bad. Would you say that he could be trusted to be discreet about it?"

"That depends," Elizabeth ceded. "What kind of—bad would it be?"

Sam fidgeted in her chair, staring fiercely at her hands, which she had folded in her lap. "You were in charge of the SGC long enough to hear the rumors, I suspect," she began in a long-suffering tone of voice. "About how Colonel O'Neill and myself were supposedly in a secret illicit relationship?"

"Ye-es…" Elizabeth replied, making the word two syllables. She felt it prudent not to mention all of the unnecessary details that had embellished this rumor. It was a little awkward. "But you said—yourself that they weren't—true."

"They weren't," Sam assured her quickly. "We were in the same chain of command and we would never break regulation. But…"

"But now you _aren't_," Elizabeth pointed out, catching on. "A relationship—between the two of you—isn't prohibited. You—work at the SGC and—O'Neill is Homworld—Security."

"Exactly," Sam confirmed, smirking at her a bit. "We're together now, but we still haven't told anyone, because they'd make assumptions about our time on SG-1. Assumptions that would be detrimental to my career especially, but it would be very bad: for both of us," she explained. Elizabeth frowned a little more as she caught sight of the quickly masked flash of sadness in Sam's eyes. Obviously, having to hide the way they did was hard. But Elizabeth also saw a deep-seated contentment there, which took her a little by surprise. She wouldn't have thought that a relationship so fraught with secrecy would be worth it, but clearly, Sam thought that it was. "He came through the 'gate today, with the new personnel from the SGC," she told her. "When the others went with Colonel Sheppard and Teyla for their Pegasus 101, Jack and I went out onto the balcony; you know, the one behind your office?"

Elizabeth smirked and shot Sam a look, having an inkling as to where this was going.

"Hey, it was only a kiss!" Sam cried indignantly, a little scandalized, as her eyes met Elizabeth's suggestive face. She swatted Elizabeth's leg in a playful scold, but Elizabeth just giggled. "Well, long story short, Chuck was looking for me and walked in on us kissing. I think we might have scarred the poor boy," Sam admitted, appearing suitably embarrassed. "I asked him what he needed and went on working like nothing happened while Jack returned to the 101 group, but… I don't know how Chuck will react and if this gets back to the wrong people…" Sam trailed off, obviously distressed.

Elizabeth felt unexpectedly empathetic. She liked both Colonel Carter and General O'Neill a great deal, and wanted desperately for them to be happy. She also knew firsthand how hard it could be to make and maintain meaningful relationships in a position of authority. It heartened her that they were together, clearly leading a successful relationship even if it was in secrecy to spare them political fallout. "Chuck is smart—enough to keep this to—himself," she soothed, placing a hand on Sam's knee and biting back a crooping cough. "The rumor mill might—be more active than—usual, but he wouldn't—take it farther."

Sam let loose an audible sigh of relief. "Thanks, Elizabeth," she said, passing a hand wearily over her face.

"What are—temporary invalids—for?" Elizabeth teased.

Letting loose a full, bubbling laugh, Sam stood and offered Elizabeth her hand. "Come on," she offered. "I'm meeting Jack for lunch. Want to get out of here and eat with us?"

"Will it be too—much trouble?" Elizabeth asked, hesitating. She didn't want to interrupt, and she certainly wasn't feeling one-hundred percent.

"Not at all," Sam assured her, helping her to her feet. "Besides, Jack likes to mess with you. He came all the way from Earth: why not let him have some fun?"

Elizabeth grinned and got to her feet. She was lucky to have friends like Jack and Sam. Briefly touching the smooth, cool surface of the Lapis Lantea bead she still wore around her neck, Elizabeth took a moment to remember that she was also lucky to have a home as wonderful as Atlantis.

She was still smiling serenely as she followed Sam out the door.

* * *

_Well? How'd I do? Any suggestions from you wonderful readers out there? I give imaginary peanut-butter cookies to reviewers! (If you have a peanut allergy, I guess you're SOL and stuck with imaginary oatmeal cookies. Yucky!) :O_


	13. A Wish Your Heart Makes

_Hello, all. I apologize for the delay. The father of an old friend of mine died, and I had a bit of trouble coming to terms with that. You know, when you just have to take a little time to re-evaluate your life? Like that. I actually did a bit of writing to get myself through it. It's posted, just because of my little cousin Grasshopper, as 'Life's Dance', if you felt so inclined to read it._

_But now for a special note about this particular chapter. You may notice that it has a little different tone than the others later on. This is because about halfway through writing it, my Grasshopper (She wanted to be called Supreme Being of Might, but I vetoed that idea. She's my Grasshopper.) actually asked to contribute the inspiration for the rest of the chapter, Myka. The character is hers, the plot is mine, which formed as I took the character and ran with it. I wanted her to feel included, and it turned out rather interesting. I had other plans for this chapter originally, but I owed my cousin, you know? Anywho, I hope you like it, and I'll update again when I can!_

_(Oh, and the song? It's from Cinderella. It was my favorite movie as a kid, and since I was already adding in Myka, I figured why the hell not throw in the song?)_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 13  
A Wish Your Heart Makes

* * *

"Honestly, you two. Get a room," General O'Neill bemoaned from the other side of the table, shielding his eyes from them like he was staring at the sun.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, glaring at him and reclaiming her fork from John before he decided to do any serious damage to her lunch. "Yes, because giving John a bite of my cake before I have to leave is _obviously_ going to cause irrevocable trauma," she pointed out sarcastically, scooping up another bite of the dessert and feeding herself this time, as opposed to her military commander, who was perched on the seat beside her.

O'Neill nodded seriously. "It does when I'm not on the receiving end of the cake!"

Across the cafeteria table, Sam rolled her eyes while Teyla nodded her sympathy. Katie Brown, who had also joined them, just looked concerned and offered the General her own untouched slice, which he turned down sullenly with the admission that he was trying to cut down a little on the cake anyways. Ronon, having decided that this meant the slice of cake was up for grabs, slid the plate across the surface of the table and dug in with as close to an expression to happiness as Elizabeth supposed he got, when he was around people other than his team.

Needless to say, after Elizabeth had shared lunch with Sam and O'Neill the first time, it had become a bit of a tradition, and had grown to include many of the senior staff and their close friends as well. It was really very pleasant, but after John had showed up one day and immediately taken the chair at Elizabeth's side, O'Neill had taken one look at them and apparently decided that he should play matchmaker.

Hence the oh-so-subtle 'get a room' comment when Elizabeth had offered a bit of her cake to John. The General's teasing had at first thrown her, but now Elizabeth simply ignored him, as did, apparently, John. She had returned to light duty four days ago upon Carson and Jennifer's approval, able to walk and talk sufficiently again, and was now putting in six hours of work a day, with an hour for lunch smack dab in the middle. (Another of the good doctors' conditions.)

Periodically, Elizabeth attempted to break her curfew and work longer than she was currently allowed, and was repeatedly thwarted. She had even gone so far as to make off with her laptop and a few stacks of unfinished paperwork and hole herself up in an isolated tower of the city once, but Sam had just spent five minutes meddling with one of the control room's consoles when she couldn't find her, and managed to trace the remote access that her laptop was using to connect to the database: a unique signature to her high-clearance computer, if Sam was to be believed. Elizabeth was skeptical, nursing a personal theory that the medical staff had simply had her chipped while she was unconscious so she wouldn't be able to escape.

Admittedly, having John back in the city for the time being had helped with her impatience. He was extremely busy: he and Ronon and Teyla were pushing the rather large shipment of personnel that they had received from Earth through their rigorous trainings so quickly and forcefully that Elizabeth was certain that she had seen one or two of them literally with their eyes crossed from the exhaustion and strain. (Or possibly one of Ronon's blows to the head.) But he was always sure to spend time with her and share at least one meal with her, although more often than not, he timed his visits so that he could make sure she left work on time. Elizabeth had thought she'd never see the day where that man would be in cahoots with Carson, but surprisingly, that day had come. Once, bored, she had gone for a run, wound up out of breath and in pain about halfway around her usual circuit, and had wound up on the receiving end of his tirade as he had shouted at her for being so cavalier with her health, radioed Carson, and then held out his earpiece so that she could hear _him_ shout at her. It had enraged her at the time, and she had pulled no punches in her quite ineffective retaliatory tongue-lashing, but she hadn't been running again, and wouldn't be tempted to do so for a while, especially since she hadn't been able to stay mad at either of them.

Several days later, mere hours away from the scheduled departure of the _Daedalus_, Elizabeth rather regretted the fact that she had not found some way to spend more time with John, despite the fact that O'Neill teased her enough about it as it was. She could have taken it in good humor, she knew. Pursing her lips, she took a fleeting moment to regret the fact that Pegasus was so demanding of all of their time. But then again, she wouldn't love it any other way.

The scrape of a chair across the floor startled Elizabeth from her reverie, and she realized that not only had the conversation continued on without her, but it had ended, and empty trays were being gathered from the table as the little group prepared to leave. O'Neill was grousing again, about god-knows-what, but Sam was laughing, and Elizabeth was wondering if their relationship was really that easy to spot, or if she was only noticing because she knew what to look for. She suspected the latter. "Come on John," she encouraged, realizing why everyone was getting up to leave. "We've only got an hour until you have to leave on the _Daedalus_. I'll help you carry your bag to the beaming area."

John appeared amused at this idea. "It's bigger than you are," he pointed out smugly as he obliged and walked with her from the Mess and towards the nearest transporter.

"Yeah, but at least _I_ can lift it," Elizabeth snarked back.

John's expressive hazel eyes widened in mock hurt and he slapped a hand to his chest. "Elizabeth Weir, you wound me!" he cried, allowing her to enter the transporter before him.

"You make it too easy," she informed him with a light laugh.

John jostled her playfully with one arm. "Yeah," he agreed as the flash of light consumed them and deposited them on the other side of the city. The doors swept open, and he casually looped an arm around her shoulders as they walked down the new hall. "But I'll be gone for two whole days while the _Daedalus_ drops a 'gate on the shipyard planet. Figured you'd like to get your kicks in now."

Elizabeth just laughed. "Touché," she replied, feeling the sudden loss of warmth as John removed his arm to swipe his hand across the crystals of his door. He went in, while she leaned against his doorframe as he moved to the duffel slung over his bed and began to quickly check the contents. She watched him, feeling oddly quiet. Atlantis was everything to her, just as she knew it was everything to John. They were important to each other, certainly, but their city was a part of them that neither could deny. Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to regret that John was leaving again, even if only for a short time. It was important to Atlantis, and therefore important to her, that he go. "I will, you know," she told him quietly as he zipped up his bag, filled with a couple spare uniforms and some toiletries, and hoisted it to his shoulder. "Miss you. You'd better come back in one piece."

"When have I not?" he asked. Catching Elizabeth's raised eyebrow, John made a face at her and guided her back to the transporter. "More pieces are better anyways. I've heard all about the girls' poker nights. You'll need _something_ to pay the price of admission and bet against all those illicit M&Ms the _Daedalus_ crew smuggles over."

"Well, I do like M&Ms…"

"…Hey!"

* * *

_Elizabeth whimpered as John left a burning trail of kisses across her collarbone and hands cradled her weight at the small of her back. Running her hands through his messier-than-normal hair, she brought his face back up to hers and planted a searing kiss on his lips, gasping in delight as he pulled her closer to him. Moving from her lips and devoting more attention elsewhere, John nibbled across her jawline and down her neck, sending thrills shuddering through her where they settled, tingling, at the base of her spine. The sensation brought a shuddering gasp of pleasure to her lips. Thoroughly enjoying herself, Elizabeth ran her hands down the strong planes of his chest, murmuring his name into his cheek before again brushing her lips with his, kissing him with a tenderness that filled her trembling body from head to toe._

_ Abruptly, he pulled his face away and examined her own, making her shiver with the darkness of his eyes and the intensity of his expression._

_ "Dr. Weir?" he said curiously. "Dr. Weir, wake up."_

_ "Wha—what?" she hissed, breathless and confused._

_ He looked at her evenly, cupping her cheek with one rough palm. "Wake up. Dr. Weir!"_

With a violent start, Elizabeth's head shot up from her desk, blinking furiously as her eyes adjusted to the light, pulse still racing, and breathing still slightly ragged from the dream. She registered that a female marine was standing next to her. Upon further inspection, Elizabeth recognized none other than Laura Cadman. The woman was grinning widely at her. "Good dream, huh?" she suggested.

Elizabeth was fairly certain that her face had turned the same livid red as her shirt.

"Thought so," the woman chuckled, tucking a stray wisp of hair back into her immaculate braid and brushing off her uniform. When Sam, O'Neill, John, and the Earth recruits had boarded the _Daedalus_ two days earlier to install a 'gate that they had nicked from an uninhabited planet onto the shipyard planet, Laura had taken over let's-babysit-Elizabeth-so-she's-bored-into-insanity duty. As Carson's girlfriend, she was also less corruptible than Sam was, unfortunately, and Elizabeth found it harder to weasel out of conforming to her enforced part-time working hours. A glance at her watch told her that she had slept through more time than she would have liked.

"Damn," she muttered.

Laura laughed again. "Down girl!" she chortled. "No need to get all hot and bothered."

Elizabeth glared at her, still feeling the heat of her embarrassment crawling up her neck, and the explosives expert had the tact to contain her mirth. "Right. Sorry ma'am," she said, smirking. "I won't tell, I promise."

"Cadman…"

"I won't!" she exclaimed as Elizabeth eyed her suspiciously. "I just came to make sure you were ready for the class. Seems it was a good idea. Can't have the kiddos seeing you sleeping on the job!"

Elizabeth almost slammed her head back down onto the desk. "I forgot about the kids," she admitted tiredly. "Thanks, Laura." Children were tedious. Why had she offered to meet with them today?

"I won't mention anything if you don't."

"Right, Laura."

"Look, here comes the zoo."

"They're just children, Laura. Relax."

The woman wrinkled her nose. "That's just what they _want_ you to think," she warned Elizabeth, throwing a distasteful look towards where five children and two adults were carefully stepping into the control room. "Children are deceitful little savages. Have fun. I hope you have all your limbs when you're done."

"Laura," Elizabeth sighed. "I highly doubt that—"

"—savages!"

Giving up, Elizabeth just shook her head at Cadman's antics and got to her feet, quickly brushing out some wrinkles in her shirt and pants and smoothing her curling hair to ensure that she appeared at least somewhat presentable. Her pulse was still racing after her imaginary encounter with John, but there was little she could do about that. Without further ado, she exited her office and made her way through the control room towards where the small group of children were huddled with their two civilian teachers, a plump middle-aged woman and a younger, freckled woman. This was Atlantis's school. Out of the seven Earth children living in the city, only five were school-aged, and they were young at that. Elizabeth knew them all already, having visited their little class a few weeks ago when they had first arrived. Reicher, a quiet, dark-haired boy, was the oldest at eleven years of age. He held by the hand his younger sister, Kayla. She was seven, and they both looked and behaved remarkably similarly, and had very slight Texan accents. None of the other three children were siblings. Anezka, a tiny blonde girl from the Czech republic who didn't speak English very well yet, was ten. Marq, a redheaded little boy from France, was eight years old, but spoke English very well. Lastly, from England came Myka, who was five, and had curly brown ringlets framing her face and large blue eyes.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Weir," they chorused as she approached, looking around with wide eyes.

"Hello Reicher, Anezka, Marq, Kayla, Myka," Elizabeth returned, smiling at them. "Have you been behaving well for Mrs. Brayden and Miss Stackhouse?"

They all nodded solemnly, and Elizabeth couldn't bite back her wide grin. "Excellent," she praised them, before becoming more serious. "Now, do you all remember what Major Lorne taught you all last week, at the shooting range?"

"Ze guns are not toys. We must nezzer touch them," Anezka recited, dark eyes large.

"If we _must_ use a weapon, we must use a stunner," Reicher threw in.

Little Kayla stepped forwards. "If we are ever in danger, we must find a grown-up, and do as they say."

"And don't talk to Dr. McKay unless we bring him food!" Myka and Marq announced in proud unison, their little European accents quite endearing.

Major Lorne had done a good job in teaching them. It was sad really, that it was necessary to teach such young children how and when to fire a gun or a Wraith stunner, but Elizabeth had and still felt that it was a good idea, especially considering just how many weapons were floating around Atlantis. With guns within such easy reach of the children, they needed to know how to act safely around them, and, god forbid Atlantis be invaded, know how to fire them. Elizabeth hoped that it would never come to that, but it was better safe than sorry, and adult civilians had received training as well, albeit more advanced, days after they had arrived.

"Very good!" she praised them with an indulgent smile. "Are you ready to learn about the Control room?"

"Yes!" they squealed, eyes bright with a curiosity that Elizabeth, frankly, admired.

"All right, this way," she instructed with a wide smile, allowing little Myka, who seemed to be fascinated with her whenever they met, to take her hand. As a group, the five children and three adults advanced, so that they were positioned behind most of the working consoles. "This is the Control room," she told them, gesturing to the technicians seated at the consoles in front of them. Chuck even turned around and offered a little wave to their visitors, which only Anezka timidly returned. "It is the heart of the city. Almost every important system can be accessed and operated from here. That includes communications, some of the power distribution, quarantine operations, the shield, and perhaps most importantly, the Stargate," Elizabeth summed up. "Now, who would like to see it up close?"

"_Me!"_ came the resounding reply.

Elizabeth was impressed with the children, she decided. They did not run, or yell, or touch anything that they were not instructed to, and their obvious awe of the Stargate was very great as they approached it.

"Does it hurt? To go through it?" Marq inquired with eyes as wide as saucers when they stopped their advance just next to the great ring.

"No," Elizabeth answered truthfully. "It does feel a little funny though," she admitted. "I'm always cold when it's over."

Kayla, still holding tight to her older brother's hand, summed it up nicely. "Wow," she said.

"Wow, indeed," Elizabeth agreed solemnly. "Now, who would like to see my office? If I'm not mistaken, Lt. Cadman would very much like to meet all of you."

All right. Well, that was a lie. But Elizabeth just couldn't resist the opportunity to see her jailor squirm a bit. She was a terrible human being.

The kids all nodded their agreement and followed Elizabeth to the stairs. She was halfway up when she felt Myka tug on her arm. "What is it, Myka?" she asked, leaning down a little.

The girl's blue eyes were sepulchral as she answered. "Papa said that there was no such thing as aliens," she lisped. "But there is. Papa didn't know that though. He said God made us, and we was all there is. He said we're special, and that's why we go to Heaven if we say our prayers and eat our greens. But… Papa was wrong, and Mummy was right. If Papa was wrong, did Papa still get to go to Heaven, Dr. Weir, when he died? Even though we aren't the only ones there is?"

Elizabeth was certain that, for a few seconds, her heart stopped, and she fought against allowing emotion to color her features. It wouldn't do to cry in front of the child. Instead, Elizabeth knelt to her level and tucked a stray curl behind the girl's ear. The SGC had spent its entire existence fighting to free the human race from false gods, and what with the whole 'we aren't alone in the universe' thing, Elizabeth knew that sorting out personal beliefs and religion hadn't been easy for any of the personnel, including herself. It had to be even harder for a mere child, especially for one so young as Myka, who was too young, really, to understand. Especially one whose religious father had died. "Yes, Myka," Elizabeth finally responded. "I think he did." The girl's shy and relieved smile told her that she had provided the right answer.

Standing, Elizabeth took Myka's hand and quickly rejoined the tour, which was just settling at the top of the stairs. "Now, who can tell me how we make sure only the good guys get through the 'gate?" she asked with forced cheerfulness, looking around at Atlantis's kids. "Reicher."

"The Iris?" he guessed.

"That is correct, especially for the SGC," Elizabeth praised. "Here in Atlantis, we call it the—"

The whirr and clunk of an activated chevron cut into her speech. Behind her, Chuck dutifully announced, "Unscheduled Offworld Activation!"

Automatically tensing up, Elizabeth looked sharply at Mrs. Brayden and Miss Stackhouse, dropping Myka's warm little hand. "Get them into my office and stay there," she instructed in a tone that left no room for argument. The two women nodded, eyes wide, and began to herd their charges across the bridge while Elizabeth made her way into the control room. The 'gate let loose its kawoosh, eliciting a few surprised gasps from the children as the last of them here hurried into the glass office.

"Do we have an IDC, Chuck?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the man told her. "Dr. McKay's, as well as a radio transmission."

"Lower the shield, and put them on speaker." Elizabeth was concerned. The shipyard planet was not due for a check-in for another four hours.

"_Atlantis, this is McKay. Have a medical team standing by. There was an equipment malfunction and we have two wounded that require immediate medical attention."_

"Consider it done, Dr." Elizabeth told him. She then turned to the man seated at her side. "Chuck?"

"Already on it, Dr. Weir," he told her, tapping a button on his console. "Medical team to the 'gate room, medical team to the 'gate room."

Nodding her appreciation, Elizabeth turned back to her office, where the children and their teachers were huddled, looking rather nervous. She didn't want them to see the wounded coming through the 'gate. No child or civilian should have to see that. Crossing the bridge, Elizabeth stepped into her office. "Mrs. Brayden, Miss Stackhouse, I'm afraid we'll have to cut your visit short. We have some wounded coming in, and I'd rather you—"

Elizabeth was once again cut off, but this time by a heartbreaking wail that startled both students and teachers alike. "_Mummy_!" came the cry, and Elizabeth was almost bowled over in Myka's rush to get out the door. She managed to catch the little girl around the waist, however, and turned with confusion to the 'gate room floor to see what exactly had upset the child so. The sight that met her scared her so much that she nearly dropped her.

Several people had poured forth from the event horizon, including Rodney and Teyla and Ronan, as well as a few others. What was most concerning about this, however, were the two wounded. One Elizabeth Recognized as Dr. Emily Cunningham, Myka's mother. The other was (Of course, because who else ever got injured?) John. Neither appeared to be in particularly good shape, and were covered in what appeared to be large burns.

_"Mummy_!" came the plaintive scream from her arms. Elizabeth, startled from her initial shock and horror, instinctively pulled the struggling girl closer to her and onto her hip. She wanted nothing more than to run down to John's side, and she silently thanked her struggling charge for keeping her in check. She would do no good there.

Running a soothing hand down the back of her neck, Elizabeth took a moment to whisper some reassurances to Myka and still her before turning back to her shocked tour group. Marq and Kayla, the youngest, had burst into tears as well, not sure what was going on, other than it was scary, while Reicher and Anezka simply looked grim. "Mrs. Brayden, Miss Stackhouse. We need to leave. Now."

The two women were not about to argue. Quickly and proficiently, they began to shepherd their young charges through the nearest exit, talking loudly to distract them from the chaos in the control room as the medical team, along with Carson, burst onto the scene. Elizabeth followed, now thoroughly entangled with Myka, as the little girl had wrapped her arms and legs around her and buried her curly head into her shoulder. Once she had carried her out of earshot of the control room, however, Elizabeth knew that she had to get back to the crisis.

"Myka," she tried, shifting her weight a little. "Myka, sweetie, you have to let go now. Miss Stackhouse will carry you, but I have to go back to work now, and make sure everything is ok."

"No!" the girl sobbed into her shirt as Elizabeth tried to pry her arms from around her neck, only resulting in her holding on tighter.

Miss Stackhouse, seeing her dilemma, tried her best to help, taking Myka around the waist and giving a gentle tug. "Come on, Myka dear," she cajoled in her pleasant voice, which did a lot to hide the fear that was present on her freckled face. "Dr. Weir needs to go back to work, honey. She needs to take care of Colonel Sheppard and your mother, just like you need to go take care of Bananas."

"No!" Myka howled into Elizabeth's shoulder, not budging. "Bananas doesn't need me, _Mummy_ needs me!"

The hysterics were upsetting the other children, at this point, and Myka was going nowhere, fast. Elizabeth, losing patience, gave in. Tapping her earpiece, she decided that she needed to know what was going on. "Chuck? This is Dr. Weir. I need an update. What happened?"

"_Equipment malfunction, ma'am, like Rodney said," _came Chuck's rather tinny reply into her ear. _"Apparently, Dr. Cunningham was running some tests on an object that turned out to be a grenade. I don't know the details, but apparently, there was an accident, and Colonel Sheppard tried to pull Dr. Cunningham out of the way of the blast. They're in the infirmary now."_

Elizabeth closed her eyes. "Thank you," she told him brusquely. Myka's death grip was slowly turning uncomfortable. She was a little too big to be carried, at her age. However, Elizabeth could understand. The child had just seen her mother seriously injured, and not in a subtle or pretty way. It _had_ to be pretty traumatic. Elizabeth herself was frantic over John, and of the two, Cunningham had appeared to be more seriously burned. She shared a glance with Miss Stackhouse, who seemed to understand, and backed off to console Marq, who was still sniffling, leaving the leader of Atlantis and the little girl in relative privacy.

"Myka, sweetie?" she asked, bouncing a little to make sure the girl was paying attention. "I'd like to make a deal with you." Her only reply was silence, but Elizabeth hadn't really expected an answer anyways. "If you promise to behave and do as I ask, we can go to see Dr. Beckett together, all right? You won't be able to see your mother, because she has to get better first, but we can ask one of the nice nurses to tell her that you said 'hi'. Can you do that?"

Myka nodded, and Elizabeth sighed with relief. She hadn't been sure that reasoning with the child would work.

"Can Bananas come too?" Myka asked in a small voice that melted Elizabeth's resolve.

"Yes. Where is he?"

"I left him in the classroom."

"Well let's go then," Elizabeth replied. With a nod to Mrs. Brayden, who nodded grimly back, Elizabeth readjusted Myka's weight on her hip and made towards the transporter, the other children behind. She and Myka stepped in alone, however, and Elizabeth assumed that the other children would be returning to either their parents or the childcare services, depending on if their parents were offworld.

One flash of light later, and Elizabeth was striding down a new hallway, towards the room they had set aside for the children's classroom. She didn't bother to hide the worry she was feeling, now, as Myka could not see her face, and no one else was around to do so either.

Come back in one piece. Was that too much to ask? Apparently, it was. Elizabeth just couldn't understand why it was always _him_. There had to be over sixty people on that planet, working with the replicator ships, and yet the one to get nearly blown to Kingdom Come (all the way from the Pegasus Galaxy, she might add) was John. Not that Elizabeth wished hurt on _anybody_, but really, she thought it was about time that the poor man caught a break, and somebody else was blown up for a change. Just to shake things up.

Reaching the door to the classroom, Elizabeth swiped her hand across the crystals and set Myka on her feet. The girl was quiet now, except for a few sniffles, and set off across the room as Elizabeth watched, made somewhat treacherous by the beanbags littering the floor, and stopped by one of the writing desks by the windows. It was decorated by a finger-painting in large, awkward purple letters that said 'Myka'. The other desks also bore nametags of varying legibility. Grabbing a ratty stuffed monkey from where it had been slumped in her seat by one arm, Myka made her way back to where Elizabeth was standing.

"I have Bananas now, Dr. Weir," she informed her, looking up at her with puffy red eyes. "He's very scared for Mummy, but I told him you'd make it better, so he's not so scared now."

Suddenly finding it very hard to swallow, Elizabeth hoisted the girl back up onto her hip, even though she was heavy. It was extremely comforting, in a way, to have the tactile connection with her, although she couldn't imagine why. Perhaps it was because Myka was just as scared as Elizabeth was. "I'm glad Bananas isn't scared anymore," she said softly. "He's a very brave little monkey."

Myka smiled. "Can we go visit Dr. Beckett now?" she asked, her British accent becoming more pronounced now that she was calmer.

"Yes ma'am," Elizabeth responded, giving her a weak smile in return.

* * *

The nice thing about being in charge, Elizabeth decided, was that if you walked down a crowded hallway looking rather strange, most people were too afraid of you to comment on it. Such was the case when she walked into the infirmary with a five-year-old wrapped around her torso and a rather sad-looking stuffed monkey smashed onto the opposite side of her head. It was not a very Dr. Weir-like fashion statement.

Seeing that the infirmary was still in a state of controlled chaos, Elizabeth skipped the rather trafficked seating area and strode right into Dr. Beckett's office and deposited Myka onto Carson's chair. The girl, true to her word, didn't protest, but she did stare around her with wide blue eyes and clutched Bananas to her tightly. "Now, Myka, I need you to do something for me, all right?" Elizabeth told her gently.

The girl nodded, and Elizabeth continued. "I need you to sit right here for a little bit," she instructed. "This is Dr. Beckett's office, so you mustn't touch anything, but I won't be gone for long, and you'll be able to see me out of that window. I just need to talk to the Doctor about my friend, ok? Then I'll come right back. Can you do that for me?"

Myka nodded, but her large blue eyes were swimming with tears again.

"Hey," Elizabeth said with a forced smile, tapping the girl's nose. "You also need to help Bananas be brave. Help him so he doesn't get scared."

This time, Myka nodded more determinedly, and Elizabeth's smile became genuine. "Good girl," she told her, touching her cheek in a surprisingly soft gesture before standing. "I'll be right back."

With that, she backed out of Carson's office and went looking for said doctor, whom she found rather quickly. She waited patiently for him to finish giving instructions to his nurses before approaching him. "Carson, how are they?" she asked as he acknowledged her with a tight grip on her forearm. Her fear came rushing back to her at that moment, but Elizabeth trusted her CMO enough that she didn't mind him seeing it.

"Colonel Sheppard will be fine," he informed her. "He suffered only minor burns and a slight concussion. Nothing a little sleep can't fix."

Elizabeth wanted to melt into a puddle, but allowed herself no such thing. "And Dr. Cunningham?"

Immediately, Carson's demeanor changed as he became far more sober. "Dr. Cunningham's injuries are far more serious, Dr. Weir. She suffered some very severe burns. Dr. Keller is still working on her. If she survives, she'll need plastic surgery to return to her normal appearance, and her recovery will not be an easy one."

"_If_ she survives? Carson, I have her five year old daughter sitting in your office right now!" she exclaimed, horrified.

The Scottish doctor too, appeared appalled. "That's a problem."

"Yes. It is," Elizabeth replied tersely. "Keep me posted. I want to know when you know for sure if Cunningham will survive, and I want to know when John will be able to receive visitors."

Carson sent a long glance towards his office. They could both clearly see Myka through the window, huddled in her chair and looking very frightened, but not crying. Carson, however, looked like_ he_ might want to cry.

"It's all right, Carson. You and Dr. Keller are doing everything you can," Elizabeth sighed. "I'll look after the girl for now."

The man nodded. "Colonel Sheppard is asleep, right now, but you could go sit with him if you like," he offered, gesturing to a curtained off area in the back of the infirmary.

Elizabeth nodded. "Thanks, Carson." Then, trying to appear as cheerful as possible, she walked back across the infirmary to where Myka was waiting in his office. "Come on, Myka," she called as she entered the room and scooped the girl up into her arms. "Let's go find a place to sit down."

"Ok," the girl acquiesced as Elizabeth began to carry her to where John was resting. "Did… Did Dr. Becket say anything about my Mummy?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes. "He told be that they're doing there very best to make her all better. Dr. Keller is still working on her."

Myka did not reply, and was silent even as Elizabeth pulled a chair towards John's bedside, sat in it, and settled her across her lap. She simply laid her head against her shoulder and fiddled with Bananas' short brown ears. Elizabeth, not sure what to do, didn't break the silence and just rubbed soothing circles onto Myka's back, just as her own mother used to do so long ago. John, at least, appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He looked pretty banged up, but nothing so bad that Elizabeth was concerned. She just needed to be there, with him.

After a while, Elizabeth thought that Myka must be asleep, as she was deadweight in her arms. But quite suddenly, she spoke. "Dr. Weir, do you sing?"

"That depends on the song," Elizabeth told her warily.

Myka heaved a little sigh that Elizabeth could feel rise and fall against her body. "Will you sing to me?" she asked quietly.

Elizabeth didn't have the heart to say no. Lowering her voice so that you'd have to be close to hear it, she settled one of her favorites. Short, simple, geared towards children, and oddly bittersweet, she decided that there wouldn't be any harm in indulging the little girl, even if she wouldn't be caught dead singing under any other circumstances. She wasn't very good, but she hoped that Myka wouldn't mind. "_A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartache. Whatever you wish for, you'll keep. Have faith in your dreams, and someday, your rainbow will come shining through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true."_

Elizabeth trailed off, hoping that Myka had fallen asleep. Looking up, she was shocked to see that John had opened his eyes and was watching her silently. The fact that he had probably heard her singing flustered her, and Elizabeth was about to call him out on it when little Myka murmured sleepily, "Please finish the song, Dr. Weir."

And dammit, Elizabeth couldn't say no.

Reluctantly, shooting a poisonous glare at John that promised death if he should ever speak of this to anyone, Elizabeth continued the song. _"A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're feeling small. Alone in the night you whisper, thinking no one can hear you at all. You wake with the morning sunlight, to find fortune that is smiling on you. Don't let your heart be filled with sorrow, for all you know tomorrow, the dream that you wish will come true."_

At long last, Elizabeth decided that Myka must be asleep. Her grip on Bananas had loosened and her breathing had evened enough to convince her. Cautiously, she looked up to see John still observing her, a tiny smile on his stubbled face. "Shut up, John. Don't you dare say anything!" she warned in a hissing whisper, feeling herself redden not just with the humiliation of revealing her poor musical skills, but the remembrance of the dream that Cadman had woken her from.

For his part, John seemed unusually docile; although that might have something to do with the pain reliever that Carson had no doubt pumped him full of. "Me?" he murmured innocently. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Elizabeth believed him. He never was cruel with his teasing. After all, a dream was a wish that you made with your heart.

* * *

_And that is that. Did you like it? Also, I'd like your opinion of Myka. My cousin wanted her to become a bigger part of Elizabeth's, and therefore John's, life, but I told her that I would leave it up to the readers. And so, dear readers, what do you think of Myka? Shall we keep her around a bit longer, or shall she and Bananas go back from whence they came? Up to you. Any suggestions as to how you would like any repeat appearances to go would be appreciated as well, if you do decide that you like her. :)_


	14. Four Legs and Two Faces

_A.N. Yeah, I kind of suck as a human being. What can I say? My muse ran away from home. Let's just be happy I got her back, yeah?_ _And as a reward, I give you the moment that you have ALL been asking for. Now, what is this moment, you ask? Well, you'd better read!_

_Also, if you like SG-1, check out my new story called "_Queenling_". It's a bit more original, and I've really enjoyed writing it. My muse had taken a vacation from that one too, but I figured I owed it to you guys to update this story first. I hope you enjoy both reading the new fic and this new chapter!_

_Cheers!_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 14

Four Legs and Two Faces

* * *

When swearing, Elizabeth always preferred to do so in a language other than English. Preferably a language with a harsher tone, such as German or Russian. Swearing in the romance languages of Spanish, French, or Italian was simply not as satisfactory. Besides, Elizabeth always felt terribly guilty when she swore in English. It was as if she could feel her mother's disapproving glance all the way from the Milky Way. Her mother always hated it when she swore: it was unladylike. Swearing in a foreign language was Elizabeth's personal loophole.

Although, at the moment, her language of choice was a dialect of Arabic. As she sat behind the wan glare of her laptop, drumming her fingers tensely, Elizabeth maintained a constant stream of profanity gushing from her lips. It was her hope that the murmuring, calm quality of her tone as well as the fact that her language of choice was not English, or European in origin, would disguise her displeasure from the girl sitting happily on the floor in front of her desk, playing with a coloring book.

Three days had passed since the accident at the shipyard planet. John had been released from the infirmary the day before, upon certain conditions set by Carson that Elizabeth had no doubt John hadn't adhered to. He had supposedly returned to his paperwork and overseeing security while he allowed himself to heal. Myka's mother had not regained consciousness for more than a few minutes at a time during this period, although Dr. Keller was hopeful that she would make a full recovery soon enough. Dr. Emily Cunningham had, as a matter of course, made arrangements for a coworker of hers to care for her daughter should she become indisposed. However, while Elizabeth was able to convince Myka to stay in the other woman's quarters at night and in the morning, the girl begged to spend the time during which she was not doing schoolwork or sleeping accompanying Elizabeth. Considering the circumstances, Elizabeth didn't have the heart to deny her: hence the girl sitting on the floor of her office. Fortunately for Elizbeth, Myka was shockingly well behaved, and rarely disturbed her. She simply played quietly by herself until Elizabeth addressed her, after which she would release a torrent of speech like the opening of floodgates before quieting again. Overall, Elizabeth found Myka's company to be rather enjoyable, and was working on indoctrinating the child with Solitaire.

John adored Myka as well. Elizabeth had visited him with great frequency while he was in the infirmary—at least twice a day—and since Myka had latched on to Elizabeth like a small, curly-haired leech, John had seen her as well. The three of them had actually had a lot of fun together, and always found time to play a game or tell a few stories. The stories that John told always had both Elizabeth and Myka alike in stitches by the end. Teyla and Ronon had dropped by once, and Teyla had kindly braided both Elizabeth and Myka's Lapis Lantea beads, which they had been wearing around their necks, into their hair. Myka had been utterly delighted that her and Elizabeth's hair matched, and had insisted that the little Athosian attempt to do so with John's bead as well, but John had put his foot down on the idea, much to Myka's (and, Elizabeth suspected, Teyla's) disappointment.

But Elizabeth wasn't so happy at the moment, hence the swearing. It _was_ rather crude, but Elizabeth decided that the catharsis was worth it. Not only was Rodney encountering more and more problems at the shipyard planet, attacks from the Genii were becoming more and more frequent while her teams were offworld. The Wraith had been suspiciously quiet, but she was feeling the pressure from Earth. The shipyard planet, as of that morning, had been given the official designation of Spes Nova. Plans for new bases and fleets, all stemming from its acquisition, were flying across her desk at a speed that made her dizzy. Everyone wanted a piece of it. Every country, bureaucrat, and military branch was grasping at Spes Nova and its bounty with greedy hands, and it was all Elizabeth could do to keep some semblance of order. After all, she _was_ the authority on the Pegasus galaxy.

Only adding to her problems were the shamefully large amount of complications arising from Lantea's new status as colony of Earth. The idea of control was nebulous. In essence, Elizabeth was engaged in a full-scale war for power over Atlantis, and to a greater extent, Spes Nova. If she had anything to say about it, control over Atlantis would rest with the IOA, the United Nations, and a council of Stargate program veterans all working in tandem, and Spes Nova would become a protectorate of Atlantis. This, at least, would give Earth a semblance of shared control, and would be greatly preferable to the ridiculous and dangerous squabbling that Earth's leaders were currently engaged in. America, Russia, China, and England were having an all-out barefisted brawl over the new ships and the planet, and frankly, Elizabeth was sick of it.

She just didn't know how she could end it. She didn't have that kind of power.

Feeling sick, Elizabeth slammed her laptop shut and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. Having exhausted her repertoire of curses in the Arabic dialect, she switched to Japanese and began again. Myka, in her blissful and beautiful innocence, merely began to hum to herself as she continued to rub a blue crayon on a page of her coloring book, and Elizabeth envied her. She was thankful for the sweet little child as well. Her presence was inexplicably calming, and it kept her grounded.

"Language, 'Lizabeth. Language!" John scolded from her doorway, dimpled grin gracing his face. He had been recovering well, obviously, despite the healing burns on his arms and back that left his skin angry and raw.

Whipping her hands away from her face, Elizabeth pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at the man. She was _not_ in the mood for his cheeky attitude. "Do you have the reports I asked for?" she snapped.

John's smile faded somewhat. "Yeah, 'Lizabeth," he told her gently, gingerly placing a manila folder into her outstretched hand while running his other hand through his perpetually messy hair. "You said you needed it."

Feeling a little bad for speaking so sharply, Elizabeth nodded her satisfaction and didn't protest when John took his usual seat on the edge of her desk, and reopened her laptop to return to her work.

Having apparently finished her drawing, Myka stood and, with a huge smile illuminating her face, bounded right up to John. "Colonel!" she squealed, grabbing onto his hand.

John laughed. "Hey, squirt!" he greeted with a warm smile, ruffling her curls. "You been taking care of Dr. Weir for me?"

The little girl nodded solemnly. "Me and Bananas maked sure we got lunch, just like you said," she informed him in her pert little British accent. From behind her computer screen, Elizabeth frowned, not appreciating the fact that John had enlisted a five-year-old to babysit her, nor the fact that it was so adorable that it almost cracked her bad mood.

She was cranky, dammit, and John was ruining it.

"Hey squirt, why don't you go and pick out some pictures to give to Chuck and Amelia so I can have a little chat with Dr. Weir, ok?" John suggested. "Then I'll take you down to the mess hall for a snack."

Myka started to pout before pausing to consider the offer. After a moment, she nodded and returned to her spot on the floor. Knowing that John wanted to speak to her, Elizabeth stood and moved to their balcony, making sure that Myka was still in her line of sight. Had she not been so frustrated with her laptop at the moment, she wouldn't have given in so quickly, but as it was, she hadn't much fight left in her. She was back to working full time, and she was exhausted.

John had followed her closely, and now faced her with a serious expression on his face.

Oh, God. John was being serious. _That_ was never a good sign.

"Yes?" Elizabeth queried apprehensively.

As if sensing her tension, John relaxed his posture considerably. "Elizabeth. Are you all right?" he asked, searching her face.

Elizabeth bristled. "Of course I am!" she hissed. "What makes you think that—"

"'Lizabeth," he interrupted softly, shooting her a look.

Elizabeth sighed and deflated. Angry John she could handle. Juvenile John? All in a day's work. Literally. But gentle, caring John was something that she rarely encountered, and had no defense against. She crumpled before him like wet paper.

"I'm tired," she admitted, breaking eye contact. She knew he could read her eyes as if she bore her soul on her lapel, and couldn't bear to let him see her so frustrated. "I'd like to say that I've had worse, which I suppose I have. But… not like this. Not on this scale. I'm in over my head, John. I'll come through it. I always do. But… it takes a lot out of me."

John placed his hands on his upper arms and applied slight pressure. "I know you will," he informed her. "You're the best, but winning comes with a price. Even for you."

Elizabeth gave him a halfhearted half-smile before looking away from his face again.

Lifting her chin with his fingers and directing her eyes back to his own, John frowned at her. "Hey. Don't be afraid to ask for anything you need," he insisted. "You have a city full of Earth's finest, and they all practically worship you. Even McKay. They've got to count for something, right?"

This time, Elizabeth did smile. "Just them? What about you?" she asked.

"That's easy," John laughed. "They _practically_ worship you, but I _do_ worship you!"

Deciding that John was probably her favorite person in the world at the moment, Elizabeth squeezed his hands tightly (she didn't want to cause him pain with a hug) and walked gracefully back into her office, pulling her military commander and best friend behind her. "Mykes!" she called out to her blue-eyed little charge, who stood up eagerly at the sound of her voice, dusting her hands of on her miniature Atlantis uniform. "Let's go get those snacks now!"

* * *

And so it began that Dr. Elizabeth Weir began collecting allies. Having worked in her field for as long as she did, gathering much respect because of that, Elizabeth found that more people on Earth were willing to listen to her than she had initially anticipated. It took her the next two days, with only three hours of sleep between them (although she made sure to take Myka for a snack and then dinner after she was released from her classes, as well as visit her mother, who was able to stay awake for longer and longer periods of time) to draft her proposal for the control of Atlantis. This was no mean feat, as Atlantis remained a military outpost, despite having acquired the status of colony. However, upon sending it to Generals Landry, O'Neill, and Hammond as well as Colonel Carter, who had returned to Earth, Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised by how quickly her proposal spread and was supported by various leaders around the world. She suspected that it was being pushed by her friends and allies in the Stargate program, but she honestly didn't mind. Traction was traction. If she played her cards right, she might just get her way.

She was excited, but Elizabeth was experiencing growing feelings of apprehension. Tension was building all around her. There was, of course, the immense pressure from the precarious politics on Earth, but from Atlantis herself as well. Then there were the factors of the Athosians, who were having a rough time of it on the mainland, her teams on Spes Nova who were working themselves into the ground to get the warships into the air, her teams' troubles with the Genii and the suspicious silence from the Wraith, and her strengthening bonds with both little Myka Cunningham and not-so-little Colonel John Sheppard. Elizabeth simply couldn't escape the feeling that things simply couldn't go on as they were. Something was bound to snap. Everything would come to a head, and soon. She just wasn't quite certain how she would handle it when it did.

Elizabeth was enjoying her first real sleep in two days on the couch in her office when the call came through her earpiece. _"Dr. Weir, please report to the infirmary immediately."_

One didn't argue with the earpiece. Though she had dearly wanted to protest the summons, Elizabeth was soon very glad she didn't, because as soon as she arrived at the designated area five minutes later, a startling scene greeted her. Sweet Myka, with her dark ringlets and large eyes, was absolutely inconsolable. The child had hidden beneath an empty bed, clutching Bananas the monkey, and was weeping. She sounded afraid. Dr. Keller and a young nurse were desperately trying to coax her out and calm her, but it clearly wasn't working. Myka just ignored them.

An unfamiliar sense of panic gripped Elizabeth's heart, and she dashed over as quickly as she could and knelt on the ground, green eyes wide. Myka saw her coming, and immediately stretched out her arms towards her: asking to be held. This was a demand to which Elizabeth immediately complied, pulling the child from behind the bed and into her lap, where she buried her face, slick with tears, into Elizabeth's neck. Jennifer and the nurse both appeared faintly bemused that Elizabeth had had such an easy time of it.

"Myka, sweetie, what's wrong?" Elizabeth cooed, looking, concerned, at Jennifer, who was rather white. "Why aren't you in your class?"

Punctuated by hiccupping cries, Myka's response took some deciphering, but was understandable with concentration. "W-we were in class and M-Miss Stackhouse was t-teaching me my nuh-numbers but then she went to h-help Reicher and then Marq s-said that h-his Mum said _my_ Mum was going to… going to d-_die_ so I sneakeded away during potty break and came to suh-see her but she was sleeping, an' then Dr. B-Beckett came so I hided and he… he taked the baind-aids off of Mummy's face and… and… and…" At this point, the child dissolved into fresh tears.

Elizabeth frowned, still a little unsure. "… Jennifer?" she asked softly, glancing helplessly at the young doctor.

"Carson went in to change Emily's bandages and check up on the mesh we inserted as preparation for the skin graft," she explained quickly. "Myka saw him pull of the bandages and…" Here, the woman trailed off, gesticulating at the sobbing child in Elizabeth's lab, and Elizabeth realized what must have happened. The sight beneath those bandages couldn't have been too pretty, and probably terrified the living daylights out of a child who feared for her mother's life.

"Dr. Weir, is… is Mummy going to _die_?" Myka wailed.

Elizabeth's heart clenched, and she held the girl tighter. "No, of course not," she soothed, before deciding that bluntness would be the best approach here. "She could have, but she didn't, even though she was hurt. Myka, have you ever fallen and scraped your knees?"

The child nodded, head still pressed into Elizabeth's neck.

"Something like that happened to your mother, only a lot bigger, and not just on her knees," Elizabeth explained. "She's been asleep a lot for the past few days because Dr. Beckett and Dr. Keller want her to get better, and sleeping will help. I know it looks a little scary right now, but she's not going to die. We're taking good care of her, and soon she'll be as good as new."

Silence. Then, "… Promise?"

A small smile crossed Elizabeth's face. "Promise," she agreed, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She could hear Jennifer getting to her feet and moving a little ways away as the nurse returned to whatever she'd been doing when the incident occurred. But she didn't move, and stayed on the floor, motionless, until Myka fell asleep. Only then did she find an empty bed towards the back of the infirmary, tuck Myka into it, and take a seat on the mattress of the adjacent cot, stolen data pad in hand. (She nicked it from Carson's office. He had certainly done the same thing to her often enough, and she figured that turnabout was fair play.) She had noble intentions of actually getting some work done, but ended up just falling into a deep, exhausted sleep.

It was the thought that counted anyways, right? Besides, after all the work she'd done in the last two days, Elizabeth supposed that she deserved it.

* * *

Elizabeth didn't wake until much later in the evening, and did so slowly and sleepily. It was a nice way to wake up, all things considered, and she appreciated the moment accordingly.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, love!" Carson greeted her cheerfully in his lilting accent from across the dim room, as he fiddled with some obscure bottles in a cabinet.

Elizabeth frowned at her watch. It was eleven thirty in the evening. "Carson, why didn't you wake me?" she bemoaned, scrambling to her feet and looking around frantically. "And where's Myka?"

"I called Rachel over the comm. link and had her take the wee lass back to her quarters," the man replied, making a note on a clipboard and walking over. "I was going to wake you, of course, but dear Jennifer wouldn't hear of it. Said you hadn't been sleeping properly." An accusatory eyebrow quirked on the doctor's forehead.

Elizabeth simply huffed. How did that infernal woman always _know_?

For his part, Carson just chuckled. "Run along now, Elizabeth dear," he instructed lightly. "I'm sure some terribly important forms are waiting somewhere to be filled out. Can't leave them waiting until tomorrow now, can we?"

"Cheeky," Elizabeth muttered, glaring at the doctor without real vehemence. He winked at her, and despite her pouting, Elizabeth grinned back. Carson was a good man, and she really did adore him. "Fine, I'll leave! I'll just go to bed now!" she announced with a dramatic sigh.

"Oh will you now?" the doctor queried skeptically, crossing his arms over his lab coat. "You'll really sleep?"

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "Probably not," she admitted, making her way out of the infirmary before Carson could force a sedative down her throat.

"Eat a bloody meal once in a while!" he called after her.

"I can take time to eat and sleep when I'm dead!" she threw back saucily over her shoulder before breaking into a slight jog, bursting into the transporter, and making her escape.

Elizabeth being Elizabeth of course, she made a point to return to her office. Valuable working hours had been squandered, after all, though she did pause at the mess hall to snag a cup of strong Athosian tea.

The night staff working the control room didn't even offer her a second glance when she entered the 'gate room. She worked at odd hours of the night far too frequently for that. If she were being honest with herself, Elizabeth genuinely enjoyed working at night though. Atlantis was quiet then, and Elizabeth always caught herself gazing lovingly out of any nearby window. The lights of the city afforded the velvet of the night sky a gentle golden glow, and were reflected upon the endless ripples of the ocean like thousands upon thousands of candles floating on the water. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and it was at times like these where Elizabeth found herself feeling profoundly grateful for her decision to leave Earth behind for the Pegasus galaxy. Atlantis may not have been her place of birth, but it was her home, and every so often, the quiet of the night would remind her of that. Tonight, her emotions seemed to be running closer to the surface, and she was feeling this far more strongly than she ever had before.

After spending the better part of an hour and a half working, the call simply became too strong for Elizabeth to ignore, and she wandered outside onto her balcony and leaned against the railing. She was feeling oddly spiritual tonight: as if she was connected to the world around her, and she was collecting little pieces of calm from all of its parts to store in her own heart. Maybe this was a result of having brought some comfort to a little girl whom she had come to care a great deal for, or maybe she was simply reverting to her natural state of being: Elizabeth did not know. Tonight was special. It didn't really matter why.

Under normal circumstances, Elizabeth would have been surprised when Colonel John Sheppard materialized from the office behind her and joined her against the railing, looking out over the city wordlessly, with a serene expression upon his charming features. As it was, it didn't even occur to her to question what he was doing here, much less why he was still awake. He just was.

Together, they remained where they were for an indeterminate period of time, motionless and silent, drinking in the darkness and the quiet and the kiss of the city's lights and the ocean's breeze like they were nectar. Like nothing existed except for the moon and the sky and the city and the ocean and John and Elizabeth and that strange and wild beauty that only the Pegasus galaxy could lay claim to. For the longest time they said nothing, but in the end, it was Elizabeth who finally pierced the easy silence between them, with an unusually tender and unobtrusive voice, so as to preserve the sanctity of the time and place.

"You know, according to Greek mythology, the first people that existed weren't like people today," she murmured, unmoving save for her mouth. "They had four legs, four arms, and two faces each. They were powerful and beautiful. But Zeus… he feared them, and all they could become, so he split them all in half, so that each human had only two legs, two arms and one face. Each member of the human race was, from that day until the end of time, doomed to spend the entirety of their mortal life searching for their other half: their soul mate." A small smile tugged at Elizabeth's mouth. "I've always thought that that story was beautiful."

She turned her head and looked at John, not surprised in the least that he had already done to same to look at her. She wasn't entirely certain why she had said what she did, but it felt right. She could tell from John's eyes that he thought so, too. Elizabeth had always been able to read John's eyes, and he hers. They hadn't always gotten along, nor had they always made an effective team, but as they learned from themselves, each other, and Atlantis, _that_ had quickly changed. Together, they were unstoppable. Anyone who knew them could see it, and every day, their bonds only grew stronger, even if neither one had the courage to admit it to anyone or themselves.

Elizabeth was admitting it now, though. She couldn't _not_. She met John's eyes with her own without fear or hesitation, and laid herself bare before him: no walls, no hiding, and nothing restrained. The time was right, and Elizabeth didn't have the will to deny John anything anymore. She was strong. Strong enough to take on an entire planet or an entire galaxy, or even two, for the sake of the people she loved. Strong enough to look John in the face and know that he deserved to see her as _her_, and no one else. Strong enough that, were an incident like Kolya's kidnapping of John to occur again, she could leave him to die because she knew that was what _he_ would want. She was strong enough to hand John the key to her soul and trust that he wouldn't abuse that power. Life was short, and life was brutal. It would chew you up and spit you back out like a colossal meat grinder. But it was also beautiful, and beauty could only be fully appreciated when it was shared.

It had appeared that John had reached similar conclusions. His crystalline eyes were luminescent with determination, pain, fierceness, a sweet tenderness, and an overwhelming sense of fulfillment and wonder. Everything that he was, Elizabeth could see, just as he could see her.

She knew, and he knew it too. It didn't need to be said out loud, or even acted upon. It was there, and that fact brought Elizabeth enough joy that she didn't need anything else. But she wanted it. Fluidly, she moved her arms to drape across John's shoulders, considered him for a moment, and brought her lips to mesh forcefully with his.

What followed was perhaps the best kiss that Elizabeth had ever experienced.

This wasn't because it was hungry or passionate or tender. It was because the way that John's lips moved against hers, the way that his hands caressed her sides, and the way she elicited shivers from him as she twined her fingers into his hair felt like the most natural thing in the world: like it was simply an extension of the connection that they exercised each and every time their eyes met. They were speaking, and confessing their secrets, without saying a word.

She knew, and he knew it too.

At long last, they broke apart, gasping slightly for air. Raising a hand, Elizabeth cupped John's cheek, full of both jubilance and fear to the point where she felt she might explode. And honestly, she wouldn't mind. The expression of happiness rippling over John's face was worth it.

"Thank you, Elizabeth Weir, for being my salvation," he murmured to her, holding her close.

She smiled, giving him another swift kiss. "Thank you, John Sheppard, for being mine."

They parted then, as silently and as synchronously as they had come together, and while Elizabeth slept alone in her bed that night, her dreams flowed with the transcendental emotions of the evening. Their time would come, she knew, and it would come soon.

Because she was in love with John Sheppard, and John Sheppard was in love with her. She knew it, and he knew it too. What would become of it, she didn't know, but Elizabeth was willing, for the first time, to give herself a chance at happiness. The morning would bring what it would bring, but she would always have the memory of the surreal night on the balcony, and that was worth more than anything.

* * *

_A.N. *GASP* Oh diabolical authoress, WHAT have you DONE?! A mushy romance scene? WHY?!_

_(Feel free to beat me to death with a blunt object. I just couldn't resist! I blame my estrogen.)_

_Feedback is SO WELCOME you have NO IDEA. Seriously. Leave a review. They feed my hungry muse._


	15. Shut Up

_So, I still feel bad after not posting anything for so long. Like, really, really bad. Therefore, I (drumroll please) have posted YET ANOTHER chapter._

_Yes, please pick your jaws up off the floor, people. That is two in one week. You're just lucky ducks, aren't you?_

* * *

Compromising Positions: Chapter 15

Shut Up

* * *

_Ching._

_ Ching._

_ Ching._

When Elizabeth awoke, it was to the insistent whine of her door chimes. Whoever was at her door _really_ wanted in, because at consistent ten second intervals, the chimes would sound again. And again. And again.

"All right, I'm _up._ I'm _up_," Elizabeth groaned, stumbling to her feet and staggering to the door, scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It was five thirty; an hour before her alarm was set to go off. Whoever was waking her up had better have a damn good reason to be doing so, or she might just have John throw them in the detention cells in the belly of the city for a few hours. Or days.

_John_. The events of the night before flooded back to Elizabeth in a flash, and she nearly stumbled.

Holy mother of _God_. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. She had kissed John Sheppard. Her mother, back on Earth, had been right about them. Elizabeth didn't know whether to break down into a quivering heap of nerves or to traipse around the city grinning like an idiot. However, she hadn't the time to decide before her ten seconds were up.

_Ching._

Renewing her grumbling, Elizabeth tugged her camisole, which was skewed across her chest, back into place before swiping her hand over the door's control crystals, sending it sliding open. She blinked in surprise at her visitor. "Anna?" she asked hesitantly.

The mousy archeologist jumped a little, clearly not expecting the door to have opened, before nodding quickly and readjusting her glasses on the ridge of her nose. "Yes, Dr. Weir," she confirmed, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet before blurting, "I'm sorry to have to wake you, but I found something that I think you really need to see."

Elizabeth sighed. So much for a peaceful, uneventful day. "Your lab. Twenty minutes," she instructed brusquely before closing the door in the archeologist's freckled face.

Yeah, it was rude. But it was the morning. Elizabeth didn't have the patience for diplomacy.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, a freshly-showered Elizabeth found herself stepping into the cluttered archeology labs, coffee clutched in her hands like a lifeline and yawning wide enough to crack her jaw. Anna was waiting for her, looking wired with nervous energy.

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Weir. I promise it's important," she insisted, ducking and weaving her way through stacks of papers and trinkets while Elizabeth followed at a more sedate pace, curiosity piqued. "I was just… filing some of the photographs we collected at M51-237 when I came across _this_." With a flourish, the little woman produced a photograph from the top of a nearby stack and placed it into Elizabeth's waiting hand.

Confused, Elizabeth studied it. It was a photo that had been taken of the side wall of the fateful temple room. It didn't show anything exceptional, aside from the fact that it was a negative.

Confused, Elizabeth looked back up at Anna, whose eyes were sparkling in her excitement. "Do you see it?" she asked eagerly.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Look at the whole thing. The big picture. What the empty spaces make if they're combined."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped as she obeyed. Since the photo was a negative, all of the blank spaces on the wall between the sections of writings were dark, making them stand out sharply against everything else. It was a perspective no one had considered before, because they had considered empty space inconsequential. But it wasn't, because the empty space made a shape that Elizabeth was intimately familiar with. The point of origin for Atlantis.

What in Pegasus was _that_ doing _there_?

"You see it now, yeah?" Anna prodded.

Mutely, Elizabeth nodded, still staring at the symbol webbed, spiderlike, in the midst of the temple's writings.

Anna did a little hop of victory. "What does it mean, do you think?" she asked.

"I… have no idea," Elizabeth ceded, frowning. What _did_ it mean? How was Atlantis connected to M51-237? They had found no trace whatsoever of Ancient technology on the planet, or of Lantean culture. But that symbol… it was far too complex to be mere coincidence. Ergo, the presence of the symbol on the wall had to mean _something_.

But Elizabeth, for the life of her, didn't know what that something was. It was infuriating. She couldn't escape the feeling that she was missing something: some important piece of the puzzle that was vital to her understanding.

Deciding that she needed a second opinion, or perhaps a third or fourth, Elizabeth tucked the photo into the pocket of her uniform pants. "I need you to make negatives of all of the photos we took on M51-237, and search them for similar phenomena," she told Anna seriously. "We can't miss _anything_. I expect a full report by this time tomorrow morning."

"Yes ma'am," the archeologist responded immediately. "I'll have it to you by tonight."

Elizabeth let loose a tiny smile. "Thanks, Anna."

"It's the least I can do."

* * *

Wearily, Elizabeth collapsed into her chair in the conference room, waiting for the remainder of her senior staff to arrive. It was only six thirty, but she'd had the tech manning the 'gate call them up regardless. While she didn't have Anna's full report on all of the photos yet, she felt that the discovery was something that she needed to share. Rodney was still tied up at Spes Nova, but Zelenka would have to do in his absence.

Jennifer was the first to arrive, appearing unnaturally fresh and chipper for the hour, and sat primly in her seat. "You didn't sleep!" she accused, her hawk-eyes immediately zeroing in on Elizabeth's worn features.

Carson, slipping in through the doors, tutted at her. "Didn't I warn ye lass?"

"And didn't I tell you I'd sleep when I'm dead?" she retorted brightly, winking at Jennifer, who giggled.

"Em, did I… miss something?" Zelenka stuttered, fumbling with his data pad as he too arrived with a coffee.

A rather bleary-eyed John, coffee in hand, entered the room and took a seat in his usual place at Elizabeth's right. He was followed by Ronon, who looked as alert as always and grunted his affirmation to Radek's query. "She's a woman, Zelenka. You'll always miss something," he said bluntly, flopping across two chairs in a heap of muscles and dreadlocks.

Beside her, John snorted. "You can't give Zelenka dating advice until you get yourself a girl, Chewie."

"Says who?"

"The bro code."

"… Sheppard?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Delicately, Elizabeth cleared her throat to gain the attention of the group. "Is Teyla coming?" she asked politely.

"I'm here," Teyla answered, strutting into the room and flowing into an empty seat.

Elizabeth smiled. "Excellent," she proclaimed, before removing the photo Anna had given her and handing it off to John on her right. "I want everyone to take a look at this and tell me what you see," she instructed.

John have her a confused look, but at her gentle smile, did as he was asked. For her part, Elizabeth retrieved a bit of scrap paper from the edge of the table, along with a pen, and proceeded to draw a crude representation of Atlantis' point of origin. This she placed in the center of the table so everyone could see, and one by one, understanding dawned in each pair of eyes.

"Remarkable," Zelenka breathed off to one side, before beginning to mutter to himself in Czech. (Elizabeth _spoke_ Czech. It _still_ sounded like muttering.)

"And this… means what, exactly?" John asked, blinking.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Elizabeth informed them. "Anna only just showed this to me forty minutes ago. Practically hammered my door down. We couldn't find a meaning either, so I assigned her to search for similar occurrences while I informed the rest of you."

"We'll have to go through everything we know. Piece by piece," Teyla sighed. "Ancestors, this planet has caused us trouble!"

"I agree," Carson threw in. "We need to link the medical data to this."

"And the replicators," Elizabeth added. The rest of the table, aside from John, stared at her. "The weapon. Dreamwave amplification theory. It originated from the medallion in the temple."

"We should also look into the energy being research that the Lanteans were completing," John suggested. "The glowy ball of doom and makeovers wasn't an ascended Ancient, but it was definitely an energy… thing."

This comment launched quite a few others, and for a solid forty minutes discussion ran hot, though in the end, further speculation was deemed fruitless, and postponed until Elizabeth received Anna's report. After all, they did all have jobs they needed to be doing.

To that end, everyone began to depart in no particular order until only John and Elizabeth remained. "Walk with me," he offered, getting to his feet. "We can get more coffee."

Suddenly nervous, Elizabeth followed and stood, the events of the night before playing in the forefront of her mind as she caught sight of her 2IC's mischievous grin. No amount of nervousness could deter her from teasing him, however. "So, how was your evening, John?" she asked coyly as they stepped from the room and towards the transporter.

The man wrinkled his nose at her. "Oh, you know. All right, I guess," he shot back coolly, waving a nonchalant hand in the air.

"I'm sure," Elizabeth laughed, bumping playfully into his side as the doors the transporter hissed closed. But before the white lights could consume them and deposit them in another section of the city, John hit the stop and turned to look at her with fathomless eyes.

"Elizabeth…" he began, but the woman cut him off with a single word and touch to his cheek.

"Sheppard?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." She kissed him then, grasping the collar of his uniform with her free hand and yanking him to her.

He complied without the barest hint of protest.

This kiss was different than that of the night before, though it still sent tingles racing down her spine. It was more raw and exploratory, as well as desperate and hungry. Their hands roamed more freely, and somehow, Elizabeth found herself pressed snugly against the wall of the transporter: a good thing, considering that what with whatever John was doing to her neck with his mouth, Elizabeth considered the reliability of her legs to be dubious at best. "John?" she asked breathily.

"Yeah?" he answered between the kisses he was trailing up the curve of her neck.

It took focus for her to answer, but Elizabeth managed it, impressing herself. "If… if we're going to do this, we need rules."

John gave her a lingering kiss on the lips before pulling his face away so that they could speak properly. He still held her close, and Elizabeth could feel both of their bodies trembling with desire. "We take turns making rules, this being the first," he offered with his trademarked flippant flyboy grin.

Elizabeth grinned back, glad that he was catching on. "Professional behavior during all working hours, no exceptions or excuses. Even…" She hesitated. "Even if it means either of our deaths."

John nodded seriously, before once again trying to lighten the mood. "None of those stupid pet names. I'm not John-John or Sheppy or Pookie or whatever else your devious female mind can concoct," John whined.

"Ditto."

"Aw, and here I was hoping to call you Freckles!" he complained. One punch in the arm later, and he was yowling even louder, although Elizabeth knew she couldn't actually hurt him. (No matter how much she might wish to.)

"Just for that, you forfeit your turn," she sniffed, settling more comfortably into his embrace. "No PDA, unless it's among friends. I don't want all the jarheads staring."

"Even better, let's just agree not be too… overt," John threw in. "Not that I don't want to shout it over the citywide intercom for all to hear, but I'm hoping for less fallout from the powers that be this way. We won't _deny_ it: we just don't necessarily have to flaunt it. Our personal lives are no one's business but our own."

"God, can you imagine Caldwell's face if he found out?" Elizabeth giggled, composing a vivid mental image of the uptight Colonel frowning so hard that flowers drooped. He was a by-the-books military man, and what with the newly relaxed fraternization rules and colonial status of Atlantis, he had spent his last visit shooting icily disapproving glares towards any off-duty officers he had spotted in the company of a person of the opposite sex. It was actually rather comical. His attitude reminded Elizabeth of that of a disapproving parent: even more so that she now appeared young enough to actually be his daughter.

"Oh God, being fed on by a Wraith is preferable to that man's cold shoulder!" John lamented.

Elizabeth just sniggered at the horrified face John was making. "You're a baby," she informed him.

"Hey, it's different for _you_! You're the only one Caldwell actually _likes_!" he insisted with mock injury.

A predatory expression lit Elizabeth's features. "Then, after he's hit you with that grumpy stare of his, I suppose I'll just have to kiss it better, won't I?" she threw in innocently before planting a chaste kiss on his lips. It was tempting—oh so tempting—to deepen it, but Elizabeth knew that they couldn't stay locked in a transporter indefinitely, and pulled away. "Not now. Working hours, remember?" she prompted.

"I knew that would come back and bite me in the ass," John sighed, before punching the transporter back into action.

Whiteness enveloped them before the world dimmed once again, and the transporter doors slid open.

"I'll tell you what though. Dinner tonight, at eight. I'll pick you up, ok?" John proposed as they stepped out, both looking rather more disheveled than they had when they had first entered.

Conscious of this, Elizabeth made an attempt to smooth out her auburn curls, glad that the hallway they had stepped into was empty. "You'll pick me up?" she asked amusedly. "John, we live in the same place."

The man just smirked. "Trust me."

For a moment, she considered him, allowing a measure of contentment to flow through her. "I do," she hummed in response. Together, walking a centimeter closer than they might have the day before, they then continued on their way to the mess hall and towards the seductive promise of coffee.

* * *

_Ching._

The door chimes. A lance of panic lit through Elizabeth as she glanced at her watch. 7:50. John was_ never_ this early. In a mad rush, she quickly finished applying the last of her mascara (she hadn't been able to resist cleaning up, just a little) and flew to the door.

Except, it wasn't John. It was Carson.

She blinked at him, confused, but the doctor was leafing through a file in his arms, and didn't notice. "Ah, Elizabeth! I have your medical data here, for the larger file we're making," he explained, tucking it all neatly together again before hesitating and pulling out a specific sheet of paper. "Actually, I'd like to go over some of it now, if you've the time."

7:50. "Ten minutes," Elizabeth sighed. "You have ten minutes, max."

Startled by this response, Carson looked up at her fully and gazed at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. After a long pause, he again spoke. "You're going on a date!" he accused.

Elizabeth knew better than to confirm this, but despite her best efforts, a delicate shade of pink tinged her cheekbones. "Carson, just because I can't talk to you for very long doesn't mean I have a date," she hissed.

Immediately, Carson's expression grew more smug. "Don't think you can fool me, lass. You haven't done it yet," he told her, winking. "_You_ have a date!"

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth snatched the files away from the Scottish doctor. "Thank you for bringing these to me, Carson, but I think you should go now."

"You smell nice! You always smell delightful when you're dressing for something special, love. And… is that eye shadow I see there? Who's the lucky lad?"

"Good night, Carson!" Elizabeth called sweetly, before shutting the door in his face.

Poor Carson. But he _was_ a mother hen. Elizabeth just wished that shutting people out of her quarters wouldn't become a habit for her.

It was eight o'clock exactly when her door chimes rang again, and this time, it _was_ John at her door, dressed in his uniform black tee and a pair of jeans, with his hair, as usual, spiked every which way. "Glad to see that your hair's not flaming red this time," she joked as soon as she laid eyes upon him.

John's face scrunched. "Oh, ha-ha," he muttered. "_Very_ funny, 'Lizabeth."

"I try," Elizabeth said smugly, exiting her quarters and pecking him on the cheek in apology. "So where are we going?"

"It's a surprise!" John exclaimed petulantly. "I've had _years_ to fantasize about our first date: I won't ruin it by telling you where it is!"

Elizabeth just shook her head and smiled softly. The pair of them continued on in companionable silence: John taking the lead, seeing as Elizabeth hadn't the faintest clue as to their destination. To the casual observer, many of which they passed in the halls, the sight of the two commanders of Atlantis walking side-by-side through the city wasn't all that unusual, aside from the fact that neither was in uniform. But to them, even the simple act of knowing that they were _together_ was special. Heck, John could be leading her on a marathon circuit around the city: Elizabeth probably wouldn't care.

Fortunately, it seemed like John had other plans, as a gleeful expression soon erupted over his features as they entered a very familiar place. "The jumper bay?" Elizabeth asked incredulously. "This is where we're going?"

"Ah, 'Lizabeth, you lack imagination!" John scoffed, before leading her into the back hatch of a jumper. "Your chariot, miladay."  
"You _do _have permission to take this out, right?" Elizabeth asked, arching an eyebrow at him as she settled into the copilot's seat.

John snorted. "Of course. You approved it. Test flight after some minor repairs that may or may not have existed."

"Then by all means, noble knight, let us venture forth!"

* * *

John had blacked out the HUD, so that Elizabeth couldn't see where they were going, as the puddlejumper shot away from Atlantis. But he did make a point of engaging her in lively conversation until they touched down. At that point, he bounded from his seat like an overexcited puppy, flashing her a brilliant smile and offering her his hand. "We're here," he announced unnecessarily.

John's enthusiasm was downright infectious, and Elizabeth couldn't help but feel excited herself. Eagerly, she accepted his hand, and leaned against his warm, firm side as the back hatch of the jumper lowered. At the sight that greeted her, Elizabeth couldn't help bit smile widely, her heart swelling a little. They had landed on the tip of the far east pier of Atlantis, right where the city dropped off into churning ocean. John had spread the cliché candlelit picnic, situated in such a way that they would be looking up at the city's lights while they ate. Elizabeth hadn't any idea how John had managed to even find candles, as they were clearly Earth-made, nor how he had managed to set it all up without anyone questioning him, but she was glad he did. Glad even for the candlelit picnic, cliché as it was. It was charming, because it was for her.

It was moments like these that made her glad that she hadn't thrown away her red underwear, even after the previous humiliation regarding its use.

"I think you've been lying to yourself your whole life, John," she stated wonderingly, gripping his hand in her own and taking in the setting with wide green eyes. "You are most _definitely_ a closet romantic."

"Yeah, well… just don't tell McKay," he ceded before turning and scrutinizing her face. "So do you like it?"

"I love it," Elizabeth affirmed, glad that her saying so made him so happy. "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

Displaying frankly impressive self-control and refraining from making the comment about her past boyfriends, which Elizabeth could see practically dancing on his tongue, John simply led her to the blanket and sat at her side. He unpacked their dinner—turkey sandwiches—and soon the pair moved on to other subjects of conversation, laughter occasionally ringing out into the crisp night air. Afterwards, John and Elizabeth flopped onto their backs and considered the stars of their new home planet, tracing different constellations with sweeping hand gestures and giving them names. It was as if their worries and fears had been stolen away by the rush of the breeze and the pulse of the ocean. The sensation was wonderful, and Elizabeth fully enjoyed it.

She didn't know what time they finally returned back to the jumper bay, but to Elizabeth, it didn't really matter. She had had a wonderful time, and she was happy. The kisses they stole from each other outside of her door as they parted only served to make it that much better.

* * *

"Good morning, Laura," Elizabeth greeted cheerfully as the woman peeked into her office, her hair falling loose about her shoulders. Myka was asleep on her couch, but Elizabeth by now knew from experience that it took quite a bit of commotion to wake the girl. Cadman was loud, but not quite _that_ loud.

"Good morning, Dr. Weir," the explosives expert returned, dropping a manila folder on her desk. "I ran into Anna, and she asked me to bring you these."

Flipping through the file, Elizabeth was pleased to see negative copies of the photographs from M51-327, as well as a neatly typed report, and she smiled happily. "Thank you, Lt. Cadman. If you run into Anna again, be sure to thank her as well," Elizabeth responded, settling the file into a desk drawer that she had cleaned out specifically to hold the information about M51-327, right alongside the files that Carson had given her the night before.

Humming slightly to herself, Elizabeth returned her attention to her work. She was drafting a trading agreement with the presidents on M36-995, and of all things, the natives wanted red and blue plastic beads in exchange for food rations. Acquiring the supplies from Earth was proving to be interesting, but Elizabeth didn't mind so much. It gave her something to occupy her mind with, and Myka had laughed so hard when she'd told her about it that the child had fallen out of her chair.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had her head snapping back up, and Elizabeth was mildly surprised to find that Laura not only hadn't left, but was staring at her oddly. "What?" Elizabeth asked. Did she have a smudge on her face or something? She didn't think she did, but hey, it happens.

"You're awfully… _happy_," she accused.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Is that a problem?"

"In _this_ galaxy? Yes," Laura shot back. "Are you being possessed by an alien, or under the influence of some strange new mutant disease?"

Elizabeth scowled, not appreciating the insinuation that she needed some sort of alien drug to put her in a good mood. "Don't you have work to do, Laura?" she snapped.

The other woman grinned flippantly. "Yeah, but I'd rather not do it," she confessed. "Glad to see you're not an alien though. It's always good to check."

Elizabeth could sense a massive headache coming on.

"Laura, please leave," she sighed.

The woman pouted, but before she could open her mouth, the clunk of the chevrons sounded from the 'gate room, immediately followed by Chuck's cry of "_Incoming wormhole!_"

Elizabeth looked at Cadman incredulously. "What _is_ it about you that sets the 'gate off?"

Cadman shrugged, and the pair bolted into the control room.

"Receiving radio transmission and an IDC, ma'am," Chuck said, swiveling around to face them. "It's Dr. McKay."

Elizabeth nodded. "Put it on speaker."

"_Dr. Weir!"_ McKay's voice greeted.

Elizabeth smiled. Not that she would ever admit it, but she had actually rather missed her crabby head scientist. "We hear you loud and clear, Rodney. Your scheduled check-in isn't for another twenty six hours though."

"_That doesn't matter. This is important,"_ the man's disembodied voice assured her. _"I have news. I solved the problem I was having! The _Calliope, Polyhymnia, Clio, Euterpe, _and the _Thalia_ are in orbit over Spes Nova and are fully operational."_

The whoops and cheers of the control room staff could be heard from the science labs.

* * *

_Only a few chapters left in our story! Like, very few. As in, three-ish. I am SO excited. If any of you have any suggestions for happenings, now would be the time to leave a review. Thanks!_

_~SimplySupreme_


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